s u m m e r
day trader
It has been said that the age of reason calls the death of imagination to its door and pretty much invites it in to have a seat. Next door, apparently feeling a little left out, the age of intellect gets it together and joins the party.
I can't remember all the various places I've heard this preached before, but I know the last time I heard it was here.
Of course this is a brilliant late 80's call to rally 'round the flag and above all buy more records. Or was it CD's by that point? Read your liner notes carefully.
It's raining hard out today, same as yesterday, and to a degree the day before. It reminds me of a short story I'm sure I've mentioned before. The plot goes a little like this. Kids are in school on Venus (I think) and it rains all the time day after day for years (my memory says seven), but for one day the sun comes out to shine brightly over the drab landscape and the children go outside to play...all except one who is locked in the coat closet by her classmates.
I'm feeling a little locked in. And whenever that happens it's a safe bet that the 80's melancholy is gonna find it's way into the CD player sure as the water is gonna roll down my office window all day.
"Hi, yeah, Christopher you really ought to sell now."
"Just hold it for awhile, okay."
"I don't want to tell you how to trade, but as your broker I should at least tell you anytime you make a 48% return in less than five hours it's time to call it a day."
"Hold it okay?"
I hang up the phone and map a couple more variables into the warehouse before pausing to look at a robin pulling a worm from a crack in the sidewalk. It hops to a group of daffodil greens tied down to the ground before stopping to eat. Somewhere there's a nest and she'll puke that worm back up and into the waiting crops of her young. Somewhere there is the smell of damp pine needles and bird shit. Somewhere close.
I pick up the phone and dial, "Yeah, let's sell half. I don't know, had enough for a rainy day I guess. Thanks."
Death of the imagination my ass. Somebody's got to imagine. Somebody's got to carry a tune. Somebody better damn well whistle while they work. I know it ain't always me, I'm a little reserved for that. Especially when I've heard "Heartattack and Vine" for the fifth time today.
Earlier today I was offered some Wager. I took it but haven't played it yet. It was slid under my office door with a yellow sticky note, "I love the smell of napalm in the morning," was all it said. Which brought a couple things to mind. One, read "Heart of Darkness" at least once a year, and damn, the Air Cavalry looked good in that film. Apparently by sheer coincidence I was sent an .mpeg of a Walleye destroying a radar station in Iraq back in February.
Know what a Walleye is?
Probably dropped from an F-15, it's a 2000Lb laser guided bomb with a nifty little camera in the nose so you can see exactly what happens right up to the point of impact. Impact will leave a 40ft wide crater about 10-25ft deep depending. Probably throws fragments out to 3000' in a little less than seven seconds. Anyway this film showed the last few seconds of this radar station and you can clearly see a guy start running away just before the screen turns to snow. He couldn't have made it anymore than 40-50ft from the damn station, probably vapor...never knew what hit him. Bet he imagined he could make it though, or at least hoped.
goodnight 4.29.99