Eventually ... but I love this guy! Herb Wagner! No relation to Big Herb. 'Oh!' So? That doesn't matter, especially when you think of the way Big Herb died, face down in the astral sand with his throat cut. 'Nasty!' And I was the one who ended him. So I'm not going to be all phoney and pretend I loved the money god. 'Right.' But let's get back to Mr Wagner. 'Please!' He's leaving Baupost Group, whatever that is - a hedge fund, no doubt. And next year, hopefully, he'll start his own hedge fund. / Of course, it doesn't have a name yet. 'Oh!' This doesn't mean Herb is a fantasist. 'No.' Lots of hedge fund don't have names, you know. Not everyone can be like Sutesh Sharma, who not only has a name for his fund but might even be getting The Great Pandit on board. / Seth Klarman is a bit upset. He's trying to put a brave face on it. He doesn't want Herb to leave. 'Little Herb, Mikey?' No, Herb is fine. We don't want to give him ideas. 'Big Herb II?' Well, Voice, now you're just being ridiculous. By the way, Herb is going to seed the new fund himself. 'Okay.' Yeah.
How hard can it be to write a couple of fucking song lyrics? I've just remembered that when I was a teenager I wrote two or three hundred lyrics. (That was before I started to play the guitar and piano and write complete songs, words and music.) Yes, they were rubbish, but at least I wrote them. / I might need to see a shrink or something. Or maybe Tony Robbins. If Tony got me to walk across those hot coals of his, I'd probably be writing lyrics again in no time.
I'll try again tomorrow. Today, I've got to work on No. 65, after lunch: cheese rolls, crisps, yoghurt, Pepsi. Nothing out of the ordinary. How shocked would you be if I had soup? 'Mikey, it doesn't bear thinking about. You, and soup? Jesus!' Quite.
_________________________
How hard can it be to write a couple of fucking song lyrics? I've just remembered that when I was a teenager I wrote two or three hundred lyrics. (That was before I started to play the guitar and piano and write complete songs, words and music.) Yes, they were rubbish, but at least I wrote them. / I might need to see a shrink or something. Or maybe Tony Robbins. If Tony got me to walk across those hot coals of his, I'd probably be writing lyrics again in no time.
I'll try again tomorrow. Today, I've got to work on No. 65, after lunch: cheese rolls, crisps, yoghurt, Pepsi. Nothing out of the ordinary. How shocked would you be if I had soup? 'Mikey, it doesn't bear thinking about. You, and soup? Jesus!' Quite.
