Friday night

I'm sitting here in the dark on the balcony of my apartment, a dram of liquid gold on my left and a half smoked stick of etheral gold on my right. Master of the universe and ruler of none. A young turk ended in his conquest: in this case the poker tables of StarCity.

It was a successful night. Mind clear and the right balance of luck and guile. Tripled my initial buy-in without any setbacks in a two hour sit down. Cashed out near the top without regret. I was tempted on leaving to set the whole chip stack on Red as I was leaving but thought what's the point - money's just way one keeps count and the feeling of winning is priceless. Why counterfeit it?

Money's just the way one keeps count. The arrogance and truth of that statement come in equal measures. It's true as long as one doesn't care and as long as it has no value other than the material (and meaningless) things it buys. But I do have a purpose for it just that there isn't enough zeros there yet to make it meaningful. And the end game buying some phallic trophies. I can't stand the wannabes - the bald aging men in their red Ferraris coverting youth and despoiling beauty, the young 'bai jia zi' - prodigal sons - rightfully losing the rightful spoils of their inheritance, etc, etc and so forth. No I think money = the right to vote on one's vision for others and for the world. And I'm keen to bring forth my solution to a better world.

Master of the Universe. It's pretty lonely even as a adept. And perhaps the path will become even more barren the further one climbs. It probably has nothing to do with the climb but more with me and the evolution of me though in the two are inter-related.

These cigarettes are making me sick. I should stop. This and that. Too dangerous. Full stop.