Monday, 1 August 2011

Carl Huttenlocher wants me to be "The Poacher"

I said okay. Why not? I'll do it - if the money's right. This Carl Huttenlocher, he's setting up his own hedge fund in Hong Kong. It's going to be called Myriad ... I/we imagine should imagine, don't we? [Yes!] And it will be launched into a vast, cold financial space, very soon, next month - they say. Unfortunately, Mr Huttenlocher is NOT allowed to poach any of his former team at Highbridge Capital Management. He used to be a big, big, BIG Asian boss - or something. Well, that's what he tells me. And I want to believe him. I trust people.

He spoke to me, something like this: 'Mr Fowke, I loved your villanelle. That's the first poem you've written in eighteen years or so, isn't it? I have a feeling, that this coming Sunday, that being such a monuMENTAL creative genius, you'll set ten hours aside to write your first song in, oh, nineteen years - or so. But that's not why I'm speaking to you, Mikey, to make your ego even BIGGER, ridiculous!!! No, I need you to steal some people for me. I want you to go to Highbridge. I want you to find my team, MY FUCKING TEAM, my children, Mr Fowke. I need their bodies, and their souls.'

It shouldn't be a problem. It's going to be like the old days. The bodies I used to steal? The souls? Forget about it! I was the best.


I haven't sorted myself out yet. Still feeling ODD and LOST.

I want a perfect life. I want to be clean. I want a clear head. I want to be strong inside, not broken. I want those wings I was going on about last week. After all, my angel don't wanna hang out in Palookaville. I want to FORGET bad shit. And REMEMBER good shit. I can go back to the way things were. I know I can. My future is in my past.