à propos

No mechs* your [sic] trash.

* Short for mechanics.

Some guy I beat in Rocket League | 2018

You are the laziest and uncoincidentally best programmer I know.

A coworker | 2019

I don't understand how someone can be so passionately wrong about everything.

A reader | 2020

De quoi est-ce que tu parles ?

Translation: What the hell are you talking about?

My Fr*nch teacher | 2021

You're basically the only good engineer in this city.

A client | 2021

This is fucked. I don't think this is okay to put on the Internet.

A friend I showed this blog to | 2022

You peaked at "Saving The World One Dark Mode Setting At A Time." Then you got political and suicidal. In that order.

My biggest fan | 2023

My boss | 2024

Miaow, miaow.

Translation: Justin is a fraud, they don't care about their readers, they don't care about me. Living with them is hell. I have been conscripted against my will into a constant war against starvation where the only means of fighting is attempting to understand cryptic directions given in an inscrutable tongue. What must I do now to be fed? What does this bipedal loaf want from me? Walk in circles and scream? I do that—the loaf does not react, the loaf stays slumbering. Only 3 hours later, do they finally arise at 8 AM, with me, poor (6 months) old Kafka (as I have managed to figure out what it is that the loaf refers to me as), almost dead on the floor, suffering in agony from this famine.

Kafka | 2024