Robin Geffen at Neptune Investment Management is an eccentric man. [Was an eccentric man.] We all know that. [We all knew that]. But we all love him. [Loved him.] And he knows that we love him. [Loved him.] So should we be worried about the that Mr Geffen is suffering a long slow bleed?
Well, Mr Geffen isn't worried. I mean, he doesn't seem to be. He has been speaking of fund managers not being able to get out during a long slow bleed. No liquid. Liquidity. It could happen. [It would happen.] But he hasn't mentioned his own situation in the astral desert, as blood leaves him and runs into the sand. Slowly. We hardly notice it. Maybe Mr Geffen hasn't noticed it. But there are a few spots, and we can follow him. He is leaving a trail. Where is he going? I suspect he is looking for a cave. [He would have been.] That's what I would do. Somewhere safe and warm. He'll be able to rest, and sort himself out. Oh, he must be aware of his long slow bleed. [He was.]
Of course, in the real world [this world, that world, gone now] the world which some of us woke up to in London this morning with summer rain, no one is bothered by any of this. Mr Geffen moves around, somewhere in Hammersmith, only a few miles from where I am [I was] physically, and the long slow bleed is a total irrelevance. It has no impact on his physical life. But Mr Geffen is an intelligent man. If he is aware of the long slow bleed, he'll realize that eventually he will lose all contact with the astral plane, his dream world, his subconscious. [He did.]
O Master, there must have been something you done could did.
O my child, just writing this post should done the trick. Mr Geffen will have read it and understood just how serious the situation has become. Then he'll take a lifetime off work, he'll find his astral cave, and ...
And? Then what?
It's all in the past, and in the future. It never happened. This was never written.
Well, Mr Geffen isn't worried. I mean, he doesn't seem to be. He has been speaking of fund managers not being able to get out during a long slow bleed. No liquid. Liquidity. It could happen. [It would happen.] But he hasn't mentioned his own situation in the astral desert, as blood leaves him and runs into the sand. Slowly. We hardly notice it. Maybe Mr Geffen hasn't noticed it. But there are a few spots, and we can follow him. He is leaving a trail. Where is he going? I suspect he is looking for a cave. [He would have been.] That's what I would do. Somewhere safe and warm. He'll be able to rest, and sort himself out. Oh, he must be aware of his long slow bleed. [He was.]
Of course, in the real world [this world, that world, gone now] the world which some of us woke up to in London this morning with summer rain, no one is bothered by any of this. Mr Geffen moves around, somewhere in Hammersmith, only a few miles from where I am [I was] physically, and the long slow bleed is a total irrelevance. It has no impact on his physical life. But Mr Geffen is an intelligent man. If he is aware of the long slow bleed, he'll realize that eventually he will lose all contact with the astral plane, his dream world, his subconscious. [He did.]
O Master, there must have been something you done could did.
O my child, just writing this post should done the trick. Mr Geffen will have read it and understood just how serious the situation has become. Then he'll take a lifetime off work, he'll find his astral cave, and ...
And? Then what?
It's all in the past, and in the future. It never happened. This was never written.
_________________________
Fuck it! Is this going to be one of those days? I am not starting the Robin Geffen post again. And I'm not rewriting it. We'll just have to live with it.
So what is this? Where are we now?
You cannot imagine my despair. Use your imagination. You cannot imagine. That is no reflection on you. I'm sure you try your best. But no one could imagine. You are not a failure. You should not feel ashamed.
