Wednesday, 9 March 2011

BC Partners raises €4 billion to the skies

I can only just make it out. That money is going. Soon it will be gone. It's supposed to be money for a new buy-out fund. I have no idea how anyone will get it down now. Why did BC Partners feel the need to raise it so high, where no one can reach? Well, no one normal. I suppose I could have a word with Big Herb or Ganesh, but I'm trying to leave all that behind. I intend to become a shaman with one voice, with everything I need within me. No desire to go sailing through astral skies with the ghosts of financiers long dead. No desire to roll in desert sands. I am a changing man.

Having said that, I dreamt of the desert last night. I dreamt of blood on rocks where there had been a battle. I cannot remember the rest. Maybe that's a good thing. I have a killer migraine. I thought only women had migraines. I must be changing, seriously. I was sick this morning. Just bile. Is anyone surprised? It's only a matter of time before the room starts spinning around. I am prepared. I'll take it slow. I'll take it easy. I'll try not to think of BC Partners and all those euros. Is there anything wrong with pounds, or are we all communists now? A European private equity group. Oh dear. Never mind. Don't get me wrong, I love continental culture. (But they can stick their government and their shitty little flag where the sun don't shine.) Do you ever hear me praising any English writers? Only very rarely. English culture is bland. I stand out like a living god in this country. I'm not complaining. Someone's got to show the English how it's done.

A bit of politics. That must go as well. Where I have suddenly found this ruthless streak, this incredible discipline? No politics, no references to popular culture, no literary quotes, no feuds, no mad voices, no slang (maybe a bit), no satire (well ...), no Americanisms. [Fuckin' A!] What will be left? One voice, my voice. Pure, and flexible, from thin prose to thick poetics. This is the new way. It is coming soon to a blog near you, this blog. Maybe today, if I can shake off my migraine. Definitely tomorrow. Tomorrow, oh tomorrow. I must fight it. Shakespeare nearly crept in there. Did you notice that? Shakey ain't so bad. The works of Shakespeare and the King James Bible. Lovely. Then it all goes downhill. I blame the middle class. Bunch of wankers. (I've got to control my swearing as well. Is anyone taking notes?) I blame the universities. They don't have this trouble in France, you know. Maybe I should emigrate. If I die soon, can someone just dump me in Pere Lachaise? Thanks.