Thursday, 5 May 2011

Lucidus Capital Partners has sold a little bit of itself

Sold a little bit of itself, yes, to Credit Suisse's Asset Management Finance. I don't know how much of itself it sold, and I don't know (nor) how much money changed hands. (And) I don't even know whose hands were involved in the deal. It's all a ridiculous mystery to me. And I'm breaking up. I despise the smoothness of the smug elite. I would laugh if I were not so terribly sad. I have no idea who Darryl Green and Geoffrey Sherry think they are. I've never even heard of Christon Burrows. It's a terribly sad state of affairs, being this ignorant, this much in the dark, without a candle, without a flicker. I (me) could be worse, I suppose. I could be one of those monsters of superficiality who like to think they know it all. (Indeed.) Their laughter annoys me. Their opinions are worthless. Their souls? I dread to think! This is for them: fuck off and die, and burn in hell.

I'm not coming with you. I'm staying out of hell. I'm hanging on to this world by my fingernails. My sanity is slipping. My blood, my fire. All I have! I've been perusing the King James Bible. That's why I'm so late, and so angry, and so terribly sad. Crazy words! 'Put away the strange gods that are among you, and be clean.' Oh, I've done that! I cut Big Herb to ribbons. His throat was all gory for glory. And I sent the elephant into exile. I'm still not clean! Now, food. Where's the drink? 'So I opened my mouth, and he caused me to eat that roll.' I had cheese rolls Tuesday, not today. Sex with a devil god? I don't know. I can't keep up! 'Thou shalt not let any of thy seed (children or ... seed?) pass through the fire to Molech.' Well, that's my weekend ruined then. I was looking forward to that. It's not as if I have anything better to do in my cell. And I could go on, but I won't. It doesn't make any sense. Surely, this can't be spiritual life, or any sort of life?

What are we searching for? Did we leave the desert for this? We have sold bits of ourselves, over and over again. (Did God buy? Or was it Satan?) I want the paradise we deserve. And AMF? What did it get? A slice of a long/short credit hedge fund with $1.8 billion in assets under management may be some people's idea of heaven, but it is not ours. AMF could buy more, over and over again, with raging fire, and awful lust, until only the ashes of money smouldered in the hands of Green and Sherry, and still there would be hunger and dissatisfaction. This is all hunger, all dissatisfaction. You are in the wrong place for joy, my children. Maybe I won't stay out of hell, after all. I can feel it from here. Can you feel it? Hot enough for you? I'm sha/man enough to cope. There is hell in words. Not many people realize. I feel sorry for the dull writers who are oblivious. I pity the cowards who will not look within. They never risk anything. How can they hope to achieve? They are the dead.

I am a master of reality. The dead have no awareness of this achievement. They do not know what it is. They have no idea where I have been. They cannot imagine where I am planning to go next. This is a higher sanity. I slipped into it while they were sleeping. (The sleeping dead? They're not really dead. It's an insult: DEAD.) Does it suit me? They need to look beyond me. They need to read my words, and then understand: I cannot be found within the words. I am neither the actor of despair nor the magician of joy. What touches them, does not belong to me. What infuriates them, doesn't even exist. An illusion has disturbed their minds. I am being as honest as I can be. What more can I do? Confess my sins? I am no good. I am a sinner. I have loved money, and I will continue to love it. Oh, children, God doesn't even want this! Only petty-minded fools could want this, and there are plenty of them, as we know. One day, I'll get calm (and clean). One day, none of this will matter.