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The frenetic energy of William Harder’s life is palpable before you even enter his home—with his dogs, their little heads crowding the front window to shout at visitors. Inside, Harder himself joins in, singing “Oh no!” in harmony with their excited cries. At the Ouija board welcome mat—I’ll learn later it matches the kitchen mugs—Harder asks me to take off my shoes, offers me coffee, then hurries into a back room to tie up loose ends from the four online stores he maintains. Soon thereafter, he’ll realize he’s made it to 4 p.m. without a meal and will fix himself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. It’s hard not to gape at the thousands of DVDs shelved in his living room, and the photos, band posters, fine art and miniature spoons that crowd every inch of his walls. “The three tiles in the middle, or four, are Pablo Picasso prints,” he says, compulsively straightening and arranging everything as we talk. “They’re from when I was living in Spain.” The Lagunitas beer cap on the fridge has a story,
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