Monday, 20 June 2011

Wellington Management has launched a new hedge fund

Did it have an old hedge fund? I don't know. How am I supposed to know what they do, any of the wretches, shivering in the darkness of this June - I'm shivering, I can't speak for others - or any time, really, because fund managers are a mystery to me, as I am to them?

There must be something I know, no? Yes. Boston-based Wellington Management is: passionate about investing, outstanding research, portfolio performance, client service, and innovation. Oh, that's a relief! Thank you, God, thank you ever so much, for making sure that Wellington is not one of these awful firms we've heard so much about. The ones that despise investing, and despise portfolio performance, spit on client service, sneer at innovation. They are servants of the devil! But not Wellington. No, not Wellington. I could be in with the right people here, if only I had one million dollars.

'One million dollars!' I hear you cry. Yes, I hear you cry. Don't get all upset, all sad, on me. Dry your eyes. I'm the one who should be upset, all sad, distraught. Where am I going to find one million dollars? That's how much they want, this Wellington crew, as a minimum investment. 'Are they insane?!' No, they are not insane. Over thirty investors have already signed up. Even in these times of great depression, there are still people around with far too much money, burning holes in their pockets, and their hearts. I'm not complaining. I just wish I was one of them. 'Oh, you'll be one of them, Mikey! Wait until your ship comes in.' Well, I'm waiting, and waiting, and waiting ... Anyone seen the Titanic?


Apologies for the light posting lately. I've been a bit confused in my head. I'm trying to find a new way of working, where I can put forty hours a week into my blog, plus thirty hours or so into my songwriting. It's going to be exhausting, I know that. Creative work isn't like normal work, where you just shuffle paper around or answer the phone. It takes something out of your soul. Having said that, my hero, Picasso, worked at least ten hours a day for over seventy years (say, age twenty to ninety). I've got to sort myself out. Otherwise, I'll never get anywhere. I can't expect my 'friends' on the internet to help with this blog, or any other friends with anything else. It's all down to me.

Update: I've just found this quote, John Richardson on Picasso - 'You'd be with him and you'd have a wonderful day - you'd go to the beach or he'd show a lot of new paintings, if he was not working and in a holiday spirit. Afterwards, you'd think what a wonderful time I've had, but why am I utterly exhausted? He was a vampire in that he took everybody's energy and worked off that. You would feel drained. Then he would work all night.' That's the solution! I need to become a vampire.