What the hell is going on with this guy? William Tung says he's closing his Avesta Capital Advisors to return to Moore Capital, but (get this, un-fucking-believable) he may reopen Avesta at some point in the future - if he feels like it, if he decides to run away from Moore again, that is. What a character! Jesus Christ! If I were Louis Bacon, I would say to Tung: 'Listen, kid, it's nice to have you back. We missed you. But don't fuck us about. If you want to work here, fine, no problem. However, you're going to have to forget all this Avesta nonsense. It didn't take off. There's no shame in that. Not everyone can be like me. But you've got to be fully committed now, capiche? Is there something wrong with your chakras?'
Yes! There's got to be something wrong with his chakras! (Or his aura? You never know.) Why didn't I think of that? Thank you, Louis, Louis!
Ah, music ...
Let's put Mr Tung and his chakras (and his aura) and his boss, Louis, Louis, to one side. Life is too short, far too short, for finance, and chakras. (And auras?) I have problems of my own. What? Inspiration! I've been thinking about inspiration - music, lyrics, all that jazz. I'm convinced that it only happens when you're working. I mean, you can't just sit around waiting for inspiration to come to you. You've got to go looking for it. When I play my guitar for an hour or two, I get plenty of ideas for songs. Music, not lyrics. I rarely develop these ideas though because I'm only looking for "classic" tunes. Which brings me around to that piece I have without the lyrics. It is a classic tune and I think I'm going to have to force the lyrics into existence. Hard work! I'll have to write - maybe for hours on end - until the words come together in a way that suits the music and matches it for quality. Perspiration, rather than inspiration!
As for my other song, Gilly Marie, I've listened to it at least five hundred times now. (Oh, so many times?!) That's not because I love the sound of my own voice. (I know you don't believe me. But it's not much of a voice, honestly.) I hardly ever listened to my old songs in the old days. No, it's because I think the test of a classic pop song is the number of times you can listen to the song before becoming thoroughly sick of it. (Thousands?) In fact, you should be able to listen: FOREVER! I could listen to a song like OutKast's Hey Ya! until the end of time, I mean: FOREVER! Or The Rubettes' Jukebox Jive. Or ...
... Oh, I'm so proud! I'm proud to say that Gilly Marie passes the test. And I'm so excited. I'm really excited because my new song will be even better! ...
... Or ... OutKast's Roses. Bitch!
Yes! There's got to be something wrong with his chakras! (Or his aura? You never know.) Why didn't I think of that? Thank you, Louis, Louis!
_________________________
Ah, music ...
Let's put Mr Tung and his chakras (and his aura) and his boss, Louis, Louis, to one side. Life is too short, far too short, for finance, and chakras. (And auras?) I have problems of my own. What? Inspiration! I've been thinking about inspiration - music, lyrics, all that jazz. I'm convinced that it only happens when you're working. I mean, you can't just sit around waiting for inspiration to come to you. You've got to go looking for it. When I play my guitar for an hour or two, I get plenty of ideas for songs. Music, not lyrics. I rarely develop these ideas though because I'm only looking for "classic" tunes. Which brings me around to that piece I have without the lyrics. It is a classic tune and I think I'm going to have to force the lyrics into existence. Hard work! I'll have to write - maybe for hours on end - until the words come together in a way that suits the music and matches it for quality. Perspiration, rather than inspiration!
As for my other song, Gilly Marie, I've listened to it at least five hundred times now. (Oh, so many times?!) That's not because I love the sound of my own voice. (I know you don't believe me. But it's not much of a voice, honestly.) I hardly ever listened to my old songs in the old days. No, it's because I think the test of a classic pop song is the number of times you can listen to the song before becoming thoroughly sick of it. (Thousands?) In fact, you should be able to listen: FOREVER! I could listen to a song like OutKast's Hey Ya! until the end of time, I mean: FOREVER! Or The Rubettes' Jukebox Jive. Or ...
... Oh, I'm so proud! I'm proud to say that Gilly Marie passes the test. And I'm so excited. I'm really excited because my new song will be even better! ...
... Or ... OutKast's Roses. Bitch!
