I'm not much in the mood for finance today. But I may as well mention this story. Yes, another hedge fund is closing. TigerShark Management. 'Damn! What's the problem, boss?' Oh, Voice, bull market problems, I suppose. I don't know. Shorting is out of fashion. / I guess it's bad for the founders, Tom Facciola and Michael Sears, but they'll survive. They've got money.
It's not the end of the world ... / As I keep saying, dear reader(s), there is more to life than working in a bank or hedge fund. Enjoy yourself! It's later than you think.
...
Music? I'm listening to David Bowie today. I've just played Young Americans. 'What next?' Station to Station. / I've been reading Paul Trynka's biography again. (I've read a lot of Bowie biographies, but this is the best one.) Some great stuff in it. 'Like ... Who says the space people have got no eyes? ... Mikey?' Yes, Voice. Also, Slash from Guns N' Roses used to go round Bowie's house in LA when he was only nine years old. Bowie was the thin white duke at the time. 'Amazing!' Yeah. Or maybe it was just before that ... 1975/1976, that period, anyway.
The book is keeping me motivated, dear reader(s). / I was depressed Monday and Tuesday, so didn't even try to record my songs. 'Bloody hell!' I'll try again this Sunday. I've got to control my emotional states, man, or I'll never get anywhere. / I'm torn, confused. I might be better off as a rock star, you know, rather than ... just live the quiet life of a songwriter, you dig? I mean, what is best? The thing that strikes me about Bowie is his ability to escape "normal" life. That may not be true these days, now that he's settled and happy. However, it was certainly true in the Seventies, when he was coked out of his mind and scouring the night skies for UFOs.
Guitar? Guitar?! 'Is there an echo in here?' I'm well pleased with my progress, man. (Oh, something positive in the gloom!) My lead stuff still isn't very melodic, but I can play as smoothly as Clapton ... maybe. And rhythm? Oh, I play my songs perfectly every time. I've just got to record them ...
It's not the end of the world ... / As I keep saying, dear reader(s), there is more to life than working in a bank or hedge fund. Enjoy yourself! It's later than you think.
...
Music? I'm listening to David Bowie today. I've just played Young Americans. 'What next?' Station to Station. / I've been reading Paul Trynka's biography again. (I've read a lot of Bowie biographies, but this is the best one.) Some great stuff in it. 'Like ... Who says the space people have got no eyes? ... Mikey?' Yes, Voice. Also, Slash from Guns N' Roses used to go round Bowie's house in LA when he was only nine years old. Bowie was the thin white duke at the time. 'Amazing!' Yeah. Or maybe it was just before that ... 1975/1976, that period, anyway.
The book is keeping me motivated, dear reader(s). / I was depressed Monday and Tuesday, so didn't even try to record my songs. 'Bloody hell!' I'll try again this Sunday. I've got to control my emotional states, man, or I'll never get anywhere. / I'm torn, confused. I might be better off as a rock star, you know, rather than ... just live the quiet life of a songwriter, you dig? I mean, what is best? The thing that strikes me about Bowie is his ability to escape "normal" life. That may not be true these days, now that he's settled and happy. However, it was certainly true in the Seventies, when he was coked out of his mind and scouring the night skies for UFOs.
Guitar? Guitar?! 'Is there an echo in here?' I'm well pleased with my progress, man. (Oh, something positive in the gloom!) My lead stuff still isn't very melodic, but I can play as smoothly as Clapton ... maybe. And rhythm? Oh, I play my songs perfectly every time. I've just got to record them ...
