Yes, another hedge fund has bitten the dust - or is biting the dust as we speak. ('Who's speaking?' We are.) A macro one this time. So? Most hedge funds fail, man. I don't think it's a tragedy. The guys behind Kingsguard, Rishi Chadda and Cyrus Pouraghabagher, will be all right. I mean, they are ex-Goldman traders. If you've worked at Goldman Sachs, you're set up for life, aren't you?
There's no need to be sad, dear reader(s). If you want something to be sad about, think of me and my situation. I'm sitting in the shit over here. Sure, I worked for Goldman on a freelance basis, but that was just mystical curses and hits for Lloyd. I wasn't a trader. I never saw the big money, as it were. / All I've got is my guitar and my songs. 'Three chords and the truth!' I just hope I can get somewhere with my music before the global collapse comes. 'You better hurry up, boss.' Of course, the global collapse will probably work out well for me. I won't be cowering in my luxury apartment, like you, reader(s), fearing the knock at the door. No, I'll be out on the highways in my V8 Interceptor with a sawn-off shotgun.
It might be the making of me.
...
Lunch? Yeah, obviously, I'm having lunch. Cheese sandwich. Crisps. Yoghurt. Coke. No surprises. / These lunches of mine get a-ROUND, and a-ROUND, and ... er, a-ROUND.
Music? Crossroads, live, by Cream, on repeat. Why? Ferocious guitar, that's why. Oh, a-ROUND!
Another conceptual? Yeah, a-ROUND! Yeah, obviously, I'll be writing another conceptual after lunch, No. 266. 'What are you going to call it, Mikey?' Mad Mikey, Voice. 'Metal Mickey?!' Mad Mikey! Open your ears! 'I ain't got no ears, man.' Whatever.
Laters.
There's no need to be sad, dear reader(s). If you want something to be sad about, think of me and my situation. I'm sitting in the shit over here. Sure, I worked for Goldman on a freelance basis, but that was just mystical curses and hits for Lloyd. I wasn't a trader. I never saw the big money, as it were. / All I've got is my guitar and my songs. 'Three chords and the truth!' I just hope I can get somewhere with my music before the global collapse comes. 'You better hurry up, boss.' Of course, the global collapse will probably work out well for me. I won't be cowering in my luxury apartment, like you, reader(s), fearing the knock at the door. No, I'll be out on the highways in my V8 Interceptor with a sawn-off shotgun.
It might be the making of me.
...
Lunch? Yeah, obviously, I'm having lunch. Cheese sandwich. Crisps. Yoghurt. Coke. No surprises. / These lunches of mine get a-ROUND, and a-ROUND, and ... er, a-ROUND.
Music? Crossroads, live, by Cream, on repeat. Why? Ferocious guitar, that's why. Oh, a-ROUND!
Another conceptual? Yeah, a-ROUND! Yeah, obviously, I'll be writing another conceptual after lunch, No. 266. 'What are you going to call it, Mikey?' Mad Mikey, Voice. 'Metal Mickey?!' Mad Mikey! Open your ears! 'I ain't got no ears, man.' Whatever.
Laters.
