Because the Internet lets you
11.12.13

I make it a point to update this at least twice a year: December 31st and March 4th. Comical how short a year is.

22 was hard. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Transitioning from a Spring Quarter riddled with late night loitering and casual Vegas trips to a career notorious for its querulous lifestyle wasn’t easy. But I gave my life to the cause. Traded in my weekends and bad habits for a new Lexus and promises of a better life. I’m eight months in, and god damn. How many millions have we made? Ridiculous.

And then there’s the people. The ones that leave, the ones that come, and the ones that stay. I lost a central figure in my life and from that learned  brevity and opportunity. A beautiful woman came into my life and from that I learned patience and vulnerability. And then there’s the team. The boys and girls who have seen me through my most triumphant victories and one-sided defeats. The laundry room conversations after the mornings that were darker than black. The coffee room breaks that reaffirmed our self-worth. We haven’t made it yet, but damn are we close.

Six days into 23 and I don’t think I could be more satisfied with L-I-F-E.

Notable Occurrences of 22
-Backpacked Europe and enjoyed a brief stint in Asia
—Danced in the streets of Paris, cliff-dived in Croatia, courted a girl in Vienna, and did some less-than-prudent things in Beijing
-Gave up my start-up to become an investment banking analyst
-Went on a Grouper
-Banned for life from two casinos in Vegas, one in Bethlehem, and four in Macau
-Picked up heavy things and then put them back down. Repeatedly.

Hopeful Occurrences of 23
-More millions

10.03.13
I’ve slept 17hrs since Saturday.

I’ve slept 17hrs since Saturday.

15.12.12
fairytalesfor20somethings:

After pulling the sword from the stone but before becoming king, Arthur went on a cross-country road trip / vision quest. He crashed on friends’ couches or, on a few nights, the back seat of his car. He went to Burning Man, stayed in the mountains of Montana for a few weeks, and learned to build a cigar-box guitar from some guy on the street in New Orleans.
When he finally arrived home, a wiser man, he thought, “That shit was awesome. I gotta find a way to do that all the time.”

fairytalesfor20somethings:

After pulling the sword from the stone but before becoming king, Arthur went on a cross-country road trip / vision quest. He crashed on friends’ couches or, on a few nights, the back seat of his car. He went to Burning Man, stayed in the mountains of Montana for a few weeks, and learned to build a cigar-box guitar from some guy on the street in New Orleans.

When he finally arrived home, a wiser man, he thought, “That shit was awesome. I gotta find a way to do that all the time.”

02.12.12
110
my dearest darling,
and i, sat on the swings, crying. we are birds we broken wings. she rants, the ravished ravine that is her realm is tumbling, crumbling. eyes swelling and tears welling. i rave. i am the steadfast provider of wisdom and divider of dividends and odd ends and round the bends. and i am trying so wholly, so clumsily and cluelessly, so furtively and uselessly. but i love her, adore her, want to be there for her. i try and i try, spewing words of spellbound sincerity, every sentence a compact clarity. but it is sickening to see her cry, to see her eyes wet and then dry and then wet again when i say something that does not divide the dividend and does not resolve the round the bend. my lovely, my singing bird, caged by the world. her notes are so high, so pure that they fly with the most massive emotion, her voice hits the sky but is wet like the ocean. it is this bird analogy that is so completely her anatomy. she has winged lips and light, lively fingertips. her sing song sad song of spoken words, long and undrawn, wraps its life-like limbs around me and i ache and i pain and i scream out in vain. i screech words of salvation, phrases of self-preservation. and i squirm and i yearn and i slowly learn that i can only do so much. because this caged bird has a key, she has me, she has herself, she has her loves, and her wealth of self. and if she takes that key in her fierce little birdie talons, she will be free. so i present her with this thought, this idea, and i am wrought with the doomsday notion that my little birdie will not listen to my motion for her to break free of her constraints, her self-deprecating complaints. she wants to be cared for (cared about?), and I tell her, “my love, my white winged dove, you are adored. i have explored your mind and this is what i find. you are a beautiful person, in every sense of the word, and i demand that you realize you deserve for your song to be heard.”

The most beautiful words I’ve ever read.
Written five years ago by the woman who irreversibly changed my life, from what she thought was my perspective.

Been meaning to share this for a while, guess I’m drunk enough right now to think it’s a good idea.

02.02.12

Why You Should Buy Lululemon

Women: You know the deal. They accentuate your assets and through some variation of gypsy magic, tuck away all your undesirables.

Men: You don’t know the deal. Let me enlighten you. Lululemon has a men’s line. And you know what? It’s swaggy as fuck.    

If Nike was the father-figure who was always good at sports, and UnderArmour was your badass Michael Vick lookalike half-brother who once got into a scuffle with Barry Bonds over the delineation between “midgets” and “little people”, Lululemon would be the sophisticated uncle from out of town who always gave you nice shit on Christmas. He runs Iron Mans and dates ethnic models.

Now I’m not telling you to buy Lululemon (NYSE:LULU) solely because I’m a minority stakeholder in the Co. They make hella nice apparel that lasts. And if they don’t, come find me. I’ll give you a nickel. For reading my blog. 

18.01.12

I reflect on life twice a year: December 31st and March 4th

I’m late this year because NYE was downright inappropriate and batshit crazy. If anyone tells you otherwise, they didn’t suffer concussions and they weren’t there.

Notable Occurrences of 2011
-Made horrible decisions
-Lived in San Francisco
-Started working w/ a start-up
-Cooked > four edible meals
-Worked 133hrs in a wk
-Accepted a full-time job offer
—Spontaneously flew to Vegas two days after and got murk’d
-Beat Frankie in Chess
-Started counting cards and sailing small boats
-Became a TA
-Got called an asshole

Hopeful Occurrences of 2012
-Hit 150 before graduation in March
-800 on the GMAT
-Skydive
-Learn French
-Spend a week in Uruguay
-Have a Wikipedia page
-Make a new gym playlist
-Attend the Geffen Playhouse (not the strip club)
-Stop playing hide&seek with my future spouse
-Finish The Fountainhead, This Side of Paradise, and East of Eden
-Spend every dollar to my name before July 16th
-Not get called an asshole

05.01.12
05.01.12
411

Finals Week does strange things to you.

For one, I’ve developed a newfound love of crass Napoleonic literature and Nerf guns. For another, it reminded me I have a Tumblr.

I just looked back on my 21yrs and everything I’ve accomplished. Off-par, considering the night started with me in pinstripe pajamas and a red-blue bath robe.

As I was thumbing through regression models and Mr. Know-It-All-Wiley’s Principles of Econometrics, 4th Edition, my roommate and I engaged in a conversation concerning women and ambition. An innocent enough conversation piece for a casual Sunday night, no?

But this lateraled into an inquiry on private equity shops and endowment funds. And Dostoevsky. Then Gambling. Morality. Entitlement. Wit. Hobbes. Fuck-Ups. Chemistry. Success. Drive. Power. Rooftops. Roots. Waiters. Sadism. High School Elections. Ex’s. Rappers. Politicians. Fame. That Scumbag Robert Pattinson. Charities. The Dollar. The Law. Rousseau. Society. Logic Puzzles. Strategies. Vendettas. Teaching Assistants. And Blacksand. But not in that order.

It’s always at the worst times that I have the best talks. Tonight put me in perspective, and it put me in a good mood. I’ll post a recap of Fall Quarter and the things I shouldn’t’ve done once I fly back east. I haven’t been in Jersey for more than a night in over two years.

Also, fill this out.

04.12.11

Let me tell you about

what I do.

I do work. I do a lot of it, and I’m fucking great at doing it. I go go go until you can’t go no more, and then I keep going. That keen sense of pushing yourself to a hundred and staying there for as long as possible? Are you kidding me? That’s like the goddamn precipice of human accomplishment right there. I live for the moment when you zero in on an inconstancy and your synapses fire and the caffeine kicks and you go into cardiac arrhythmia for just a split fraction of a second. Because the moment succeeding that connotes a breakthrough, and every hour thereafter lasts but a millisecond.

These eighteen, twenty hour days I’m working are offset by a sense of achievement unlike any I’ve ever experienced. From folding cotton tees in the backroom of PacSun to modeling million dollar IPOs. My life’s a Childish Gambino anthem on repeat.

PS. Standard and Poor’s, you can go fuck yourself.

09.08.11