Monday 2 August 2010

Randal Jenneke with an equities team in flames

That is what we can expect in another dimension. It is certainly what the gods want. And a righteous man has been chosen to lead the way. Randal Jenneke is a veteran of the burning life. Seventeen years of flames are following him. He dived down at Schroders, losing his head in blue waters with a great deal of steam. But T. Rowe Price has called his name now. And there will be no [nothing]. So he will build the equities team in Australia. Analysts will appear like the corpses that refuse to rot in our visions. Chris Alderson knows, turning in astral sky, the burning is coming.

Oh, you may have noticed a change. Let us move away from Randal Jenneke and concentrate on the change in my approach to solving the problem of reality in the financial world. We need to move away from Randal Jenneke. There are more important things to discuss. You need to know that I have killed the voices and the characters that lived in my soul. It was either that or go completely insane. And I have cut out the slang, the swearing, the references to popular culture, the literary quotes, and the whirling chaos of styles. I am left with one voice. This voice will go deeper than ever before. I will stay calm, but will surely lose my grip on meaning more than I have ever done before. I feel different now. Calmer and heavier. I also feel under no obligation to please anyone. Not even myself.

The problem of reality in the financial world is the problem of reality itself. Because the subject (finance) is only a gateway. If you write about a trader or a fund and go so deep that the trader or the fund becomes irrelevant, then you have reached the reality you were looking for. The ultimate reality. The ultimate literature. Some of you may want to disappear at this point. You may want to find a blog written by a cold earth wanderer that will offer you financial news and opinion with a touch of culture for good measure. Something that delights you, amuses you, but will not make you suspicious of the luminous man sitting next to you at work, or afraid of the woman with the red lips in the lift that keeps falling, although it is not really falling, it just feels that way. I will not be fucking around. This is going to be a serious business. And that was my last obscenity. Control is key. If I can control myself and my writing, I will be able to [nothing].

There will be nothings. It will be difficult to find the right words. Luminous was nearly nothing. But let us hope for the best, eh?