Yesterday I went dumpster diving under the auspices of a strong market — buoyed by my desire to accumulate more gains. This is a never-ending conquest of mine that does not age, or whither, bend, or fold. It grows, exponentially, in both desire and method. Sometimes I wonder why I trade at all, when I could happily live out the rest of my days, independently ignorant to the whims of the market, write essays and concoct schemes inside Exodus to make investing better, cleaner. I suppose my passion is rooted in the idea of immortality, being able to leave a legacy, having constructed to impress upon the world ideas that make life better.
Why else live, if not to contribute and improve the world?
Without money, only time is valuable. I’ve never been charitable with my time — because I’m selfish in that regard.
Early going, markets are weak, as well as oil, and bonds are strong. Up until last week, markets did not bottom on Fridays. We’re butting up against what I called “the FAGbox”, which is a crude and heavy handed way of saying upward resistance of the chop varietal. It’s entirely possible markets might not trade a single point higher from yesterday’s close for the balance of 2019. If this is a bear market, we should be prepared for disappointment, only hedged by a coldness in emotion and mechanical disciplines to extricate us from risky investments.
I’m prepared to liquidate fast, and with regularity. I do intend to become the DRIP God once again — and presently look forward to another squall in markets to make the pigs squeal.