You'll have to wait a long time. If you've got a long time. I've got a long time. Un / fortunately, I am not an investor in the Fidam Capital Growth fund. This means I'm waiting for nothing / nothing / nothing financial - [not yet]. Story of my awful life. But if you're an investor, you will have to wait three whole months for redemption. Don't blame me. It's not my fault. Fauchier Partners has decided that that's the way it's got to be. The great thing about Fauchier Partners is the philosophy. We all need philosophy to get us through the bad times. 'Fauchier Partners is a conservative investor, and the preservation of our clients' capital is a top priority. We exercise our judgement in the selection of hedge funds and the construction of portfolios.' Funds of funds of funds, with a few more funds, for good measure, on the side. So conservative, and very safe. They're not wild hippies doing it for a laugh. Genuine professionals. I'm feeling better already and I'm not even an investor.
I'll be waiting a long time for redemption. I haven't even got any money invested. It could be worse. I could be one of the others. Lost, and they don't even know it. Thoroughly damned to hell, with icing on top, and a cherry. I wouldn't swap places with any of them, not for all the traffic on the internet. Imagine having no soul, no feelings. Pain is alien to them. So is pleasure. They go round and round with no (attempt at) meaning. At least I go round and round (attempting, meaning) looking for a way out. I'll find a way out. There's no rush. I'm hopeful. There is a meaning in the way out. I truly believe that. It's something to look forward to. Oh. Just in case you're wondering, this is the future of my writing. It's what I said I would do, and I'm doing it. This is not irreverent bullshit for brain-dead clowns. I'm taking you deeper, if you've got the guts to follow. Come with me. I'm not having any conversations any more. I don't care about all the characters rotting on the floor of my subconscious. And here is the beautiful part, right here: I'm not making any concessions! Don't ask me where I found the strength. But here is a theory, right here: maybe I found the strength in my despair. 'That's where it came from?!' Who can say? Maybe you hit bottom and you lose your fear. I don't know. But I wouldn't rule it out. I'm just saying, I'm still trapped, and everything is closing in, tighter, nicer, warmer, it's like being wrapped up in a carpet, even better than a blanket, thick carpet, with words, thoughts; images too.
Here is my advice, right here, if you can bear it: smash the reality of money. Break it down. The pieces will stick to your soul for a while. But not for long. We'll be clean. Like being new, fresh, reborn. I stink. So do you. Such dirty c**ts! You really have to be rich to think like this, to hope like this. I'm poor. Some of you will stand a better chance of redemption. I will catch you up. I'll be a multimillionaire within five years. I'm aiming for twenty million. Then I'll get clean.
I'll be waiting a long time for redemption. I haven't even got any money invested. It could be worse. I could be one of the others. Lost, and they don't even know it. Thoroughly damned to hell, with icing on top, and a cherry. I wouldn't swap places with any of them, not for all the traffic on the internet. Imagine having no soul, no feelings. Pain is alien to them. So is pleasure. They go round and round with no (attempt at) meaning. At least I go round and round (attempting, meaning) looking for a way out. I'll find a way out. There's no rush. I'm hopeful. There is a meaning in the way out. I truly believe that. It's something to look forward to. Oh. Just in case you're wondering, this is the future of my writing. It's what I said I would do, and I'm doing it. This is not irreverent bullshit for brain-dead clowns. I'm taking you deeper, if you've got the guts to follow. Come with me. I'm not having any conversations any more. I don't care about all the characters rotting on the floor of my subconscious. And here is the beautiful part, right here: I'm not making any concessions! Don't ask me where I found the strength. But here is a theory, right here: maybe I found the strength in my despair. 'That's where it came from?!' Who can say? Maybe you hit bottom and you lose your fear. I don't know. But I wouldn't rule it out. I'm just saying, I'm still trapped, and everything is closing in, tighter, nicer, warmer, it's like being wrapped up in a carpet, even better than a blanket, thick carpet, with words, thoughts; images too.
Here is my advice, right here, if you can bear it: smash the reality of money. Break it down. The pieces will stick to your soul for a while. But not for long. We'll be clean. Like being new, fresh, reborn. I stink. So do you. Such dirty c**ts! You really have to be rich to think like this, to hope like this. I'm poor. Some of you will stand a better chance of redemption. I will catch you up. I'll be a multimillionaire within five years. I'm aiming for twenty million. Then I'll get clean.
