All because some selfish bastard investors insisted on redemption. How absolutely absurd! There ain't no redemption. Not for their sort. I'm spitting blood. This is the evil that men do, this is. Although there could be females mixed up in it. I don't have all the details yet. I don't think I ever will. It's not as if I [do] any sort of research or investigating, is it? I just open my mind up and let everything in, like a whale with plankton. (The mind is a mouth. But you knew that. And what the fuck is krill?) Of course, I have to select the shit that appeals to me. (Well, I don't have to.) Could I devour all the news? Yes, if I wanted to, but I'm not greedy. Right now, this post now, it's the Ratio Asset Management debacle that interests me. (Debacle? Is that the right word? Who cares? I quite / like / it. Honestly, I love "debacle"!) Tomorrow, or maybe later today, who knows? Maybe I'll lose all interest in stories. Maybe I'll be waxing lyrical about the most beautiful journalist in the world. She doesn't have a lot of competition. There's Stacy-Marie, I suppose.
Oh, in case you haven't got [got, got, FUCKING got] the foggiest idea, Ratio Asset Management is an alternative investment manager. They seek to deliver consistent and attractive returns for investors, whilst controlling risk and preserving capital. However, they don't get any thanks from anyone. It's a miserable business. So they have decided to close the Ratio European fund and return all assets to investors. As we(I) know, redemptions are to blame, from two of their biggest investors. But Jonathan Sharpe will be all right. He's the big chief executive. I know he won't sink into depression. I know he won't go out and get drunk, then return to the office, smash his hand into a mirror in the lavatory/[[toilet]], smear the blood all over his face, and God knows what else, and then just cry his little eyes out. That's what I would do. I don't have Jonathan's self-control. My emotions are animals, crawling around my head - my heart? If I don't kill them, I feeling, sensing it, they're going to kill me. If I don't hunt them down, my life will be destroyed by these animals not even in words and images, beyond are these monsters that feel disgusting like there's no words or images at all, it's an ache, an itch ... I could scratch and get rid of pain, I could dissolve myself, them, this ...
I will never get calm. I need to be calm, and clear, to do what I want to do. Only a few days left to fuck the animals to pieces. I might as well stop here. I am not achieving anything. See you later, crocodiles. (No, you're not crocodiles. You're my friends.) I'll try again this evening.
Oh, in case you haven't got [got, got, FUCKING got] the foggiest idea, Ratio Asset Management is an alternative investment manager. They seek to deliver consistent and attractive returns for investors, whilst controlling risk and preserving capital. However, they don't get any thanks from anyone. It's a miserable business. So they have decided to close the Ratio European fund and return all assets to investors. As we(I) know, redemptions are to blame, from two of their biggest investors. But Jonathan Sharpe will be all right. He's the big chief executive. I know he won't sink into depression. I know he won't go out and get drunk, then return to the office, smash his hand into a mirror in the lavatory/[[toilet]], smear the blood all over his face, and God knows what else, and then just cry his little eyes out. That's what I would do. I don't have Jonathan's self-control. My emotions are animals, crawling around my head - my heart? If I don't kill them, I feeling, sensing it, they're going to kill me. If I don't hunt them down, my life will be destroyed by these animals not even in words and images, beyond are these monsters that feel disgusting like there's no words or images at all, it's an ache, an itch ... I could scratch and get rid of pain, I could dissolve myself, them, this ...
I will never get calm. I need to be calm, and clear, to do what I want to do. Only a few days left to fuck the animals to pieces. I might as well stop here. I am not achieving anything. See you later, crocodiles. (No, you're not crocodiles. You're my friends.) I'll try again this evening.
