Off they go, flying past, there they go, off to Morgan Stanley, they are coming, in flames, in time, the way Gregory Fleming planned it. You see, Mr Fleming is one of the few mystical guys at Morgan Stanley, and he wants mystical characters all around him. He wants that comfort, that security. He doesn't want to be alone. Can you blame him? No one wants to be alone. Not even Greta Garbo wanted the solitude. I never believed that nonsense. So he's bringing them in, the mystical ones, the conquerors of the desert. That's the way to do business if your head is full of flames. Yes, he will have Jack O'Connor and Paul Julius. I know them well. Brilliant men! Warriors of the astral plane! Veterans of the sandy days and nights. Oh the nights! When we crawled in the moonlight. It wasn't all dancing. Not in those days. Oh, Jack and Paul? I know them well.
Alas. I knew them well. Jack O'Connor was a fellow of infinite jest. And Paul Julius? His flashes of merriment were wont to set the table on a roar. But everything must come to an end. One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh.
O Master, this sounds like a tragedy! Where are we, in future times? Has our world come to an end? But the earth abideth forever, surely?! Oh, it is we who have disappeared! Help me! Help me! Can you hear me? O Master, am I alive? Help me! Help me! God have mercy!
Shut up, my child, and go away! You moron! This is a serious affair. I don't want your voice in this moment. Your chatterings, your screamings, are a great annoyance to me. Be gone! One day it will be permanent.
Dear reader, he is an idiot. Ignore him if he comes back. Dear reader, understand this: I am everywhere. Everywhere in time! I was at the birth of Christ. I was at the death of Caesar. I am here, right here, Tuesday 24th August 2010, in London. I will be present at other times, other events, so far off, you can’t see them, may not even want to. This is why I'm so melancholic. It's not a gift. It's a curse. I am detached. Cut off. I had such high hopes for this post. I was trying to be positive. Jack O'Connor will head Morgan Stanley Investment Management's institutional sales unit. That's something that should be celebrated, isn't it? But I feel so sad. Paul Julius will be the unit's chief financial officer! Why can't I be happy for him? This post began with such fire, such enthusiasm.
I know how it all ends. I am not the god I want to be, that's for sure. This weakness is terrible! I feel so human. O God, have mercy on me! I am a human being. And that voice, that mystic child? Yes, have mercy on him too. And my readers. We are all your creatures, your robots. Why we pretend otherwise, I'll never know.
Alas. I knew them well. Jack O'Connor was a fellow of infinite jest. And Paul Julius? His flashes of merriment were wont to set the table on a roar. But everything must come to an end. One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh.
O Master, this sounds like a tragedy! Where are we, in future times? Has our world come to an end? But the earth abideth forever, surely?! Oh, it is we who have disappeared! Help me! Help me! Can you hear me? O Master, am I alive? Help me! Help me! God have mercy!
Shut up, my child, and go away! You moron! This is a serious affair. I don't want your voice in this moment. Your chatterings, your screamings, are a great annoyance to me. Be gone! One day it will be permanent.
Dear reader, he is an idiot. Ignore him if he comes back. Dear reader, understand this: I am everywhere. Everywhere in time! I was at the birth of Christ. I was at the death of Caesar. I am here, right here, Tuesday 24th August 2010, in London. I will be present at other times, other events, so far off, you can’t see them, may not even want to. This is why I'm so melancholic. It's not a gift. It's a curse. I am detached. Cut off. I had such high hopes for this post. I was trying to be positive. Jack O'Connor will head Morgan Stanley Investment Management's institutional sales unit. That's something that should be celebrated, isn't it? But I feel so sad. Paul Julius will be the unit's chief financial officer! Why can't I be happy for him? This post began with such fire, such enthusiasm.
I know how it all ends. I am not the god I want to be, that's for sure. This weakness is terrible! I feel so human. O God, have mercy on me! I am a human being. And that voice, that mystic child? Yes, have mercy on him too. And my readers. We are all your creatures, your robots. Why we pretend otherwise, I'll never know.
