Monday, 20 February 2012

I want to ruffle Chris Ruffle's feathers, but ...

[This is rough. As rough as it gets.] ... I can't think of anything to say that would piss him off. Oh, what a shame! Never mind, eh? I'm just in a perverse mood this morning. Is he a bird? But that's nothing new. Can he fly? High in the astral sky, which I've banned, as you know. I'm just so in a perverse mood every morning, ain't I?

Chris Ruffle - for those of you who do not know and may not even care because you're arrogant and all wrapped up in your own nonsense - was in another life a veteran of Martin Currie Investment Management and, as a consequence, got the idea in his crazy little head that he should start a new hedge fund with his mate Ke Shifeng. And in this life, before the after. [As a consequence? Well, it sounded good at the time, thirty seconds ago.] My God! Is there anyone who isn't starting a new hedge fund? Now, that would be news!

Ruffle and Shifeng's firm is called Open Door Capital Group, for reasons best known to themselves. And their fund is called the China Absolute Return fund, for other reasons best known to themselves. And no one knows anything else worth knowing. Which is as it should be. If everyone knew everyone's business, 1.5 percent for management, 15 percent for performance, there would be chaos. It's just my personal opinion. (If there is a personal.) I have no proof that there would be chaos. I haven't researched it. I'm far too lazy for that!


Damn! I seem to have ruffled my own feathers. How on earth did I ... ?!

When you lose control, words can go anywhere. And I never even had any control. Ever.

If I posted once a week, that would be a solution. I've achieved everything I wanted to achieve, here. All I can do now is add to the achievement. (I'll change my opinion about this when my mood changes.)

But music ... I'm not satisfied. I've written one and a half great songs. I need fifty.

After lunch, I'll be playing my guitar for the rest of the day.

Reading through this post, it isn't very polished, I know. But who gives a shit, man?! You don't know my despair. Don't judge me or I'll judge you, and you won't like it.

Update (4.30pm): I've been playing my guitar a bit. But I'm all rusty. It's my fractured shoulder that messed things up. Now I'm back to square one, it seems. Why is nothing ever easy for me? Other people seem to glide through life. With me, it's like wading through treacle, or shit.