Friday, 20 August 2010

Goldman Sachs sues Natixis

In London's High Court. Something to do with three credit derivative transactions. Goldman bought protection from Natixis, the French investment bank. [Protection? Is this a racket of some kind? I don't know.] But Natixis wants to cancel the deal because it claims Goldman never followed instructions. Goldman is suing for breach of contract. I am fully behind Goldman. Why should it take instructions from a French bank no one has ever heard of? This is an outrage!

Normally, I would have a conversation with Lloyd Blankfein at this point. There would be plenty of bad language. Lloyd would be exhorting me to take these French muthas down. That's how it works - normally. But as you know, dear reader, I'm not receiving the Goldman dollar no more.

So we are left with emptiness. But that's okay. We can deal with emptiness. Besides, what will you find anywhere else? Only emptiness masquerading as news. They talk and they talk. They write and they write. None of it means anything. None of it is remembered longer than a day. And yet they think I'm the crazy one. What they fail to understand is that my honesty regarding my emptiness will guarantee my immortality. And it's the way I express my emptiness that is important. Emptiness coupled with grandeur is a winning combination. Just ask King Solomon.

And then there are the visions. Where would I be without my visions? My visions are a way for me to escape emptiness. Like Rimbaud before me, I am sickened by 'normal' reality. I want to escape. I need to escape. Rimbaud quit too soon. Packed it all in at nineteen/twenty. Imagine if Picasso had quit painting at that age! Picasso is a far better example of the shamanic artist. In fact, he is the greatest shamanic artist of all time. He recorded his visions with paint, and he worked until he dropped. On the day of his death - at the age of ninety-one - he didn't go to bed until three o'clock in the morning (may have been six). He had been painting all night! There was no way that last painting could have possibly added anything to his monumental reputation, so why didn't he just get a good night's sleep like any other pensioner? I'll tell you why: it was because he was a god. A human god - if that makes any sense. It probably doesn't, but then I never promised you 'sense', did I?

The only thing that impresses me more than Picasso's last night of work is Julius Caesar's death. The way he dismissed his bodyguard when he heard there was a plot to murder him. He said that it was better to look death in the eye than to live in constant fear of it. He wanted to show his enemies that he was superior to them. He was another god, but not an artist. However, I recommend you read his Conquest of Gaul. It reads like an Ernest Hemingway novel, but it is over two thousand years old.

I hope I haven't lost you, dear reader(s). There must be one of you who feels the same way I do about things. Or do you just come here because you think it's all a bit of a laugh? I know I'm isolated. Physically and mentally. I cannot change myself. To be honest with you, I wouldn't want to. I must continue with this blog, even if it leads nowhere. What else is there for me to do? I'm not going to get a job in a bank, am I?