The other night was our holiday party. I met a guy who runs a hedge fund and a really pleasant trader. The evening was largely uneventful, except for the young intern, who could make worse choices than never showing up to work again. The assface senior executive who doesn't know my name (though he has had 2 years to learn it and spends about half of his day fawning over the miserable fucks I call "friends") was an assface, not knowing my name. He is by far the biggest reason I'd prefer to stay in bed in the mornings.
A lot of the year end list of books include "The Emperor's Children" and I'd just like to reiterate how much I disliked this book. It made me hate books for a few weeks afterward.
This is such a dumb thing to say, but lately I've been able to picture my future much better, more clearly. And this is it, basically, except with a faster car, slightly different clothes and an even more bored expression on my face. Not great, but whatever. Then after Sunday morning, when my name was misspelled by a cashier in a way I don't think I could ever think of, I feel like I'm sitting down to eat a 10 gallon tub of beans - regret for the future. There might be a German word for that. I don't know.
