I've heard of it. Saguenay Strathmore Capital is a fund of funds manager from the future. It's my business to hear of such things. I've even seen it - New York, London, and Toronto!
There are finance people in my visions, burning brightly. It's the fire of my passion. With a storm of images, and sounds, I get to know someone like Brian Walsh. He's the chairman and chief investment officer of Saguenay Strathmore Capital. I've seen him in his office. I've touched him - with my mind, I insist you understand. It wasn't anything sordid. There's no need for the authorities to get involved. Stephen Harper? That man is the chief executive. I've seen him in the future, too. I'm actually watching him now. Isn't it exciting? Don't you wish you had my powers?
Well, some of you (almost) do, of course. Thanks to me. I'm the one (me!) who dragged you out/in to the physical/astral desert, and then - after a number of years - dragged you kicking and screaming back to the cities, yes, kicking and screaming, because you didn't want to leave all that wonderful sand behind, did ya? (There's no way we could have rolled there forever, like silly little children. We are sha/men and sha/women - [[women, a few, not enough!]]. Business is business, after all.) I'm the one who made you (you!) what you are. You can stop reading this post, if none of this applies to / to / to you / you / you. If you're just some passing square (maybe you have your own blog, I don't know, maybe your prose style is a sixth-former's idea of what literature should be [Not that it is literature, my advice? stick to what you know, finance, do you see me writing about finance? no, I don't write about anything, it's all in the words, the mystic reality, there is no subject, it's a way in, and a revolution, excuse my arrogance, but I am the expert {my other astrologer, in the paper, says I've got to know what I'm doing, I know what I'm doing!!!}, I've only sacrificed my whole fucking life to it - 'hence a feeling of bitterness rather than gratification', forgive me! but it's understandable, ain't it?], how the heaven would I know? I can only see so much, I have limited energy, to watch) who found my blog by mistake, you can leave right now. There's the back button - up there! But if you stay, you stay on my terms. You surrender, to me! It won't be long before I'll be asking for 10 per cent of your salary. All the others are going to pay. What, you think you're special? You ain't special. I'll make you my slave. That's the best way to get free, believe me. I've been reading the Bible. I killed all the old gods or sent them into exile (and I truly loved that elephant), like I was told to. I have AUTHORITY. I worked hard for it! It's my way or the highway, ladies and gentleman.
Layer upon layer, I get deeper. And heavier. And I feel further away. Will I ever be loved by 'human' men and women for what I have seen, or will I have to move on, and take my place on God's wall of trophies? None of this would matter if I had my angel.
It is a life of despair. We lose ourselves in our chosen fields. Not a life of flowers in the sun. It is a life of mud, at night. To be lost and cold without love is the worst thing imaginable. Very few of us have to imagine it. It is our experience. So, we want compensation. Money, or glory, or respect. Maybe all three of these phantoms. In the end, there will only be dust and ashes for children to gawp at. Where will we be, and what will we possess?
There are finance people in my visions, burning brightly. It's the fire of my passion. With a storm of images, and sounds, I get to know someone like Brian Walsh. He's the chairman and chief investment officer of Saguenay Strathmore Capital. I've seen him in his office. I've touched him - with my mind, I insist you understand. It wasn't anything sordid. There's no need for the authorities to get involved. Stephen Harper? That man is the chief executive. I've seen him in the future, too. I'm actually watching him now. Isn't it exciting? Don't you wish you had my powers?
Well, some of you (almost) do, of course. Thanks to me. I'm the one (me!) who dragged you out/in to the physical/astral desert, and then - after a number of years - dragged you kicking and screaming back to the cities, yes, kicking and screaming, because you didn't want to leave all that wonderful sand behind, did ya? (There's no way we could have rolled there forever, like silly little children. We are sha/men and sha/women - [[women, a few, not enough!]]. Business is business, after all.) I'm the one who made you (you!) what you are. You can stop reading this post, if none of this applies to / to / to you / you / you. If you're just some passing square (maybe you have your own blog, I don't know, maybe your prose style is a sixth-former's idea of what literature should be [Not that it is literature, my advice? stick to what you know, finance, do you see me writing about finance? no, I don't write about anything, it's all in the words, the mystic reality, there is no subject, it's a way in, and a revolution, excuse my arrogance, but I am the expert {my other astrologer, in the paper, says I've got to know what I'm doing, I know what I'm doing!!!}, I've only sacrificed my whole fucking life to it - 'hence a feeling of bitterness rather than gratification', forgive me! but it's understandable, ain't it?], how the heaven would I know? I can only see so much, I have limited energy, to watch) who found my blog by mistake, you can leave right now. There's the back button - up there! But if you stay, you stay on my terms. You surrender, to me! It won't be long before I'll be asking for 10 per cent of your salary. All the others are going to pay. What, you think you're special? You ain't special. I'll make you my slave. That's the best way to get free, believe me. I've been reading the Bible. I killed all the old gods or sent them into exile (and I truly loved that elephant), like I was told to. I have AUTHORITY. I worked hard for it! It's my way or the highway, ladies and gentleman.
_________________________
Layer upon layer, I get deeper. And heavier. And I feel further away. Will I ever be loved by 'human' men and women for what I have seen, or will I have to move on, and take my place on God's wall of trophies? None of this would matter if I had my angel.
It is a life of despair. We lose ourselves in our chosen fields. Not a life of flowers in the sun. It is a life of mud, at night. To be lost and cold without love is the worst thing imaginable. Very few of us have to imagine it. It is our experience. So, we want compensation. Money, or glory, or respect. Maybe all three of these phantoms. In the end, there will only be dust and ashes for children to gawp at. Where will we be, and what will we possess?
