Here I am, sitting in a sea of red. This is day two of making good moves trading futures then making a good move in the market then watching my book go right down the crapper.
Outside of my window, as far north as I reside, it is a glum 48 degrees and raining. It feels like March, the absolute filthiest month of the year. The blanket of clouds is so thick a single ray of sun cannot touch the earth.
There’s no green. Holiday cheer is a festive balance of red and green. This is 50 shades of grey and red. The LED lighting system I mounted on my home and trees has been set to red only since last Thursday. My home is lit like a brothel, I kid you not. It does not look proper any other color. It is all red with intermittent flashes of burning-hot white.
My first year ever with a real Christmas tree, just like nature intended, it is so glorious. It is so green and welcoming unlike the rest of my world.
I want to leave you with one closing thought. I don’t care if you have been charting out bearish setups for weeks. Nor do I care if you have charted the opposite, bullish charts. I don’t care if you have marked 10,000 charts with your thoughts and they were RIGHT.
WE AREN’T HERE TO READ CHARTS. WE ARE HERE TO MAKE THE MONEY. That is what separates entertainers from traders.
We can all read charts. You and I can sit down for a week and you will be reading charts with the best. What we need is execution. Scalping suits me, swinging is like sitting still while 100 bees swarm you. All the while unable to move and hoping the dude with the fog gun (Central Bankers) comes and shoes the pain away.
Fuck
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