Mitch was a partner. He's been promoted to senior partner. / Actually, he's the chief financial officer at EIF. He does all the financial reporting, as you would expect. Terence Trent(?!) Darby is really pleased for him. Yeah, Terence works there too. He's one of the managing partners. (I suppose it's better than driving a cab.) No, I don't think he's the famous Terence - I mean, used to be famous, Terry. Just a normal "Terry". (I was one of the few people who bought his second album. He played all the instruments himself, you know.) This EIF is a private equity fund manager which concentrates on power and electric stuff. (Toasters? I don't know. Maybe.) / Some "others" have been promoted as well, like Mark Voccola. He's a partner now. He was a vice president, a senior one, but they're ten a penny, aren't they, dear reader(s)? Maybe one day Mark will become a senior partner. We can only dream, can't we?
We can only dream, yes. Yes, we can only dream, of all of them: Keith Derman, Jose Torres-Monllor, Andrew Pike ... "others". / I'll be sleeping later and having dreams, no doubt. Oh, lovely dreams. / Not about EIF though. (Do me a favour!) Probably dreams about Jim Morrison. Why? Well, I watched the Hollywood Bowl concert earlier, with The Doors. It cheered me up, a lot. I was so depressed yesterday afternoon, worrying about my music. But there's a better life. I must go after it. (I just want to get away from this awful blogging, and the awful souls I've come into contact with - not my dear readers, so don't get upset.) I could go on stage with leather trousers and say shit like: "I am the lizard king. I can do anything." Right up my street, all that is.
And it's an easy thing, switching from financial shaman to rock and roll shaman. / The language is the same. The cool attitude is the same. And I've paid my dues out in the desert, eh? Yes! I'm ready, man. / And I'll be appreciated more, in a scene where they like a bit of colour. I'm sure music journalists aren't as fucked up as ... ha! Never mind.
We can only dream, yes. Yes, we can only dream, of all of them: Keith Derman, Jose Torres-Monllor, Andrew Pike ... "others". / I'll be sleeping later and having dreams, no doubt. Oh, lovely dreams. / Not about EIF though. (Do me a favour!) Probably dreams about Jim Morrison. Why? Well, I watched the Hollywood Bowl concert earlier, with The Doors. It cheered me up, a lot. I was so depressed yesterday afternoon, worrying about my music. But there's a better life. I must go after it. (I just want to get away from this awful blogging, and the awful souls I've come into contact with - not my dear readers, so don't get upset.) I could go on stage with leather trousers and say shit like: "I am the lizard king. I can do anything." Right up my street, all that is.
And it's an easy thing, switching from financial shaman to rock and roll shaman. / The language is the same. The cool attitude is the same. And I've paid my dues out in the desert, eh? Yes! I'm ready, man. / And I'll be appreciated more, in a scene where they like a bit of colour. I'm sure music journalists aren't as fucked up as ... ha! Never mind.
