Thursday, December 31, 2009

A Few Thousand Years Old Person Inside Of Me

If people ask me what kind of books I can not live without them. Well yes, I can live my life happily without any books frankly. During teen I devoured everything whatever I could access. After teen I read mostly old religious texts, anything fancy with people; All sort of human belief ritual etc… sometimes actually a monk or shaman or ordinary people ’ original hands written/drawn symbols in rice papers. Now mostly all kind of old odd kind of stuff. I obsessed about anything old; world of old oddity. I am a lover of all sorts old things, well known or nameless. I am looking into myself. I have an obsessive personality so I always obsess something; anything fancies me at the time of my mood, not all them same time. For example, an old text, I went through the world of ideas like thunderstorm, what I want to know, as a bone eater, thoroughly confidingly through its entire bones, crunch crunch its skeleton, then I know what it is. Subtext, underneath hidden meaning. I can interpretation in anyway as I please. I am not interested in its well documented story; they are all the same, rather I am interested in, why author had to be twisted that way. Why it had gone off from its shell to hell of human endeavor! Our human desire, every women are whores every men are bastards! Nature is there -common don’t pretend you are a saint! I don’t believe saints. - So I know what I fell in love really then move on next, a like a butterfly, suck everything.

I dig everything what I fancy on, don’t worry I am not fancy on you so I am not stalking on you online or libraries, or long journey for your graveyard and amorously touching your headstones Ok? He hee giggle geekgeek... this information age, made me heaven for my obsession. I can go everywhere! No one stop me no regime stop me! I consider myself expert in that area right! In my way ofcourse, believe me I do!! Mostly dead ones! Dead people are safe, I can challenge them without rebutted, that is why! I am a something of tyranny! To be frankly I don’t fancy any living poets and painters! Sorry living poets and painters! I stop read your poems! So don’t worry I am not stealing your unfounded bounty tiny fleeted imagination! Do you think I am wrong fancy on dead people! I might. Alan has given me his blessing though. “Off you go!” He says. hehee he think it is safe for me fell in love dead peopleee! I have some well known poets first edition you know. I bet you are pang of envy me! I knew where the places for some great things for great price! I won’t tell you that is my secret! Still some places, although all have been exploited. I feel I lived thousand years ago, somewhere Middle East, I might have been a wondering eyed Pharaoh! hee he al al…Sitting at the Mediterranean Sea throne, ridding Sahara desert sandstorm and banqueting blazing sunset with countless lovers!! And recite glory of love O yes Love!! Love that you could die for, whatever that mean! That is right! Old things are not threatening me, not punishes my adequacy in this modern world, a patron of comfort blanket. That was how I was brought up by partly; oldie moldy sort…!

Teen age years, we didn’t have much chance to side glance, just straight just straight,…virgin… one liner street we have to walk straight head up - hungry carnivorous beasts were prowling around fences and waiting for falling angles. That was it, well yes in Mao regime. Not because I collect books sake of” collection” rather, did not have chance to do anything else. Moldy smell of integrity, all most everything; houses, books, furniture, even cooking wears, even linens, even clothes - I have very beautiful old style velvet coats from Alan’s mom, I wore them at sometimes! People were looking at me, I didn’t know whether they were looking at me or the ancient styled gown, frankly I don’t care -- everything you name it. Sometimes I amazed myself how could I so fluently cope with modern techno-entourage. Sometimes I feel like a thousand years old person inside of me still, as my attachment love old thing is quite complex. Part of me I suppose…

To be continued…

Friday, December 25, 2009

Investment is My Talismanic Blanket

Here is a Michael Spence’s an investment commentary at Project Syndicate as:
Perhaps most importantly, short- and medium-run returns, especially during periods when they are high, should not be taken as accurate signals of long-run returns. Investment strategies should not be based on the assumption that all times are “normal” times, and that periodic instability is abnormal. The challenges of assessing systemic risk and the timing of instability are just that – challenges, not reasons to ignore the phenomenon.
When you are looking into the Kandinsky painting; there is time, ubiquity unclearness of colors of body work start with. It is a girl playing and polka dance or like her childish skirt, abstract figurines with all kind of elementary possibilities talismanic blanket there; sounds of movement and sound of colors and words of world of comfort and coziness. I can understand why all the world of economists so fanatically obsessed about their profession. Death only parted us kind of passion, very territorial, prowling like savage bulldogs at heat! I am still in a dark sky sometimes, but I can see stars, Milky Way stages, that are very romantic theatrical space crafts. Very much in our daily life is there, you can not figure this out to begin with but when you read all these fanatics words; start with I don’t know but still keep reading and reading that doggerel boring articles after after then one day “ AHA HA HAAA WOWWW…” O I can see what they are on about. Everyone whoever romance with their chosen field they are the winners! I think. Without passion and love, only greediness you can not be winners! I think When Kandinsky painted his painting he could see the all the possibilities of sensibilities in the field of his space. If he was not a painter he could have been a great investor in his time, I believe. He was enthusiastically experiment with his enigmatic intuition in his composition. Process of discovery of principal of our life, you can not see these elements with barren eyes you must in love. You must bewitched by their intriguing geometrical beauty and mystical inner agony despair; can be a black hole. I see investment is very much composition of our life story. You can lure into our complex yet very simple life natural process. You have to go though dark stormy sea and meet clime morning bay with glittering sunbeam. But we need a time to figure all of these out from craziness of time value and probability. Here I go OK!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Korean Parent - Massive Steel Tailgate Love-Fests

Here is CHOE SANG-HUN's Can-not-laughable tale of Korean parent obsession NY Times!
Swayed by the increasingly popular conviction that height is crucial to success, South Korean parents are trying all manner of approaches to increase their children’s stature, spawning hundreds of growth clinics that offer hormone shots, traditional Eastern treatments and special exercises.

Why can’t they leave their children alone? That is my asking, gosh what a trauma trauma! Nightmare custom made superfine ginnery children. Being a child in Korean is trauma. There is no such things as children’s right, Right? You see me as a kind of guinea-pig, turn out to be a completely opposite direction. Thank you, I was always the tallest or second tallest in my class. So I am not worry that kind of stuff, but one of my best friend is shortest class saying “ if my height is same as you I am not studying hard, I don’t need to!” Well yes she went USA in her twenty, blood and sweat in libraries (while I was a global nomad with matrons by wine, and blood sweat at night clubs and danc away nights!) and got a Phd and now respectable academia in a University, married to a nice fellow proof of academia and have two children. I am still studying and I still feel like a child, well I don’t know what to say! I suppose I could get Phd of brewing!! Or I could get a degree of “where is most funny charming drinking pleasrue worship companion are!!” Obviously Korean parents’ hot obsession of tall children, by fertilizing hormonal thing is eminent farces, only Korean can do that. They say “ O my child you are my little precious sunshine in my propaganda shade, you are squabbles jokes in my drafty crafty showcase, décor of my life, a risky investment and my genetically alternated property, grow inside my Stalinist regime! Stretched your boneless bonsai life inside my vacillated massive concern. Hey Korean mamas! If not careful your children gone off with patron of bending railroad, riding with opposite bandwagon!

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Prof Krugman Has Full of Gay!

Darling, I love you! Krugman says, he must have been a very gay! Full of elation and honor of the conjugal banquet of “unfairness and irresponsibility” derivable to underivable and desirable to undesirable…etc. I must say, Darling is sweet adorable with his ample of doused kindles! What a heck of Darling gay is!

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

I Will Have What He Is Having!

Source for Course, From Krugman
Well no one would like to hug a frozen frosty, bruised body for sure! Extreme hot and cold hot!!! She lost her rhymes in her balancing. Here is her hot cold hot hot fast arousing ramous roaming body! Result of, she has been abused by centuries, she is suffering from battered woman syndrome; mind is not her own, body is not her own anymore; Indeed out of control; a kind of sadistic and masochistic relationships with her ungrateful spoiled offspring. She is trapped, if she is not abused by us she would not able to responsible or arouse; well a kind of complex problems. She needs a long vocational loving therapy for her eventually well being! Right, otherwise she will be kaput. Be aware, her bloody torments teased soul; grafting boasting droughty and drowning tightfisted there is no honey and milk from her breasts! If we don't treat her with respect and dignity! RIGHT!

Saturday, December 5, 2009

The Game of Chance

Here is fat Europe’s moral responsibility for their past African colonial counties, they striped off all the wealth of natural resources and left economical political destitute; and most unforgivable treacherous exploitation of human slavery for centuries:
Historically, Europe must shoulder much of the responsibility for Africa’s current state of development. The slave trade, colonialism, and the flawed process of colonial divestment all left their mark on Africa’s newly independent and fragile states. Now materialistic Europe and the developed world are imposing another disaster by on a struggling Africa through a life style of self-enrichment, consumption, and waste.
And here is a short article of; who messed up African continent at the first place: The ex-masters should open their market to the African countries. So that thus they can sell their products to west and so that these can be lead to self-sufficient. Good for all around

Anyway here is a story goes:

Once for on time, at the Northern Scandinavian winter, Frozen short dankly day, the bodies of the world leaders at the Climate Change Summit are frozen turkeys for a ready for thanks-giving party. Frill dal dal, their frosty bodies at calamitously tattered at a warming hot fireplace and drinking a dodgy hot soup, a cupper feeble tea, and gulp down steep world straits and a balaclava dance at dawn-less dark night and “Playing Russian Roulette Game”. The chair of summit is the Donald Duck (one of my best friend!) His opening statement of the summit;
Quurrk Qurrkee…, I am the Chair of the most over crafted dis-gauntleted gone off orbit of summit! What is the big deal mates? Well speak up, all of your towheads, don’t put your precious well carved brains in your swanky briefcases and just carried by your armored body-tards or at tucked at pages in your glass cases. Speak up swindles gentles ladles swing your well carved hepatica purpled lips, with mumbled jumbled pious words and tell the world “how to save this hotheaded planet!?.

Our life is a game, the wheel of the equation Ok!!???*&^%$@#!)(*&^^ (+)^^∞√ńńµƠβ∑²☺!!! A game of our chance OK!? Here is a revolver with a bullet! Qurrke qurrke … who are the lucky leaders today’s game of the chance!!! Here we go! The wheel of game swing upside to down! Start! Here the revolver!( handed it to a leader)

The Mosquito County Leader(hold the revolver at his temple): well my friend of; sullies, naggers and immense mouthed Donald chair, thanks for this nibbling opportunity for speaking out how to save the world! Bugs bugs in toxicant, fleet of flies standings still waters and let them work on their own rhythm; our heavenly nest are dead carcasses rivers! (Click takk- Applauded with their body for itchiness, handed revolver to another leader)

The Rats’ Country Leader: Thanks the eminent misleading mates, pictorial carton laureate in your quarrelsome chair, I want to make the world of darkness, never wake up, the sleepy dawn-less dawdles place is the most habitable nest for us, we thus increase our breeding capacity would be a million in per second!! (Click –tukk Ovation ovulation follies -revolver to another leader).

The Leader Of Clean Air: dear straight backward naked dispositional cold turkey brained mates! I want to speak out my view of world in this phobia paranoia piled event. My militant exaggeration is; I am an invincible dependable and indomitable! I go everywhere; you can suck me lick me at my deeply indifferent outlook! Self pity not this is the fairest fair of all fairs! It is gigolos’ midday fling in a hot stuffy summit! (Click –tickisssssssss… the leader of clean air slowly fold his upper body on his desk, a finest strip of blood his left face flow down like a g-string of tart!)


The Leader of Earth: Wow he got the bullet! Where is my chance of game! She is gasping gasping with chocked by airless air at the fairest fair! Where is my turn, where is the game of my chance! Then she collapsed on the floor and drop dead! Her death was by dead air!