I cannot punch my way out from an open prison guarded only by cherry marines!
Pah, I fell victim to my own sword today, trading retardedly — buying high, selling low only to watch in horror it go back to highs. I am off by a second, by a minute, by a football field. I sell too fast, hold too long, rape myself without cause and generally muck up the whole trading art thing I coined many years ago. It’s so bad there are people who now tower over me inside Stocklabs as sages and oracles, who do nothing other than throw shit at their screens all day long.
I stand before you with my first monthly loss in nearly a year, off by 4.7%. I wish I had a plan, or a stratagem, but at this point the cortisol is running high and my desperation for some sort of trading equanimity is severe. I am now resorting on luck, hoping the Gods bail me out and throw a bone at me to chew on. I will be ever most grateful and forever your debt, if by chance you could parlay me a great win or two. Why, if such a win was afforded to me, I would do nearly anything at all to pay back this debt, including and not limited to murder.
I ended the session with 1.6% cash and a portfolio filled with hope and dreams.
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