CW Nightmare
In the torn out belly of an old, sprawling hotel, I found myself investigating strange happenings in the fledgling restaurant that sprouted in the blasted ruin.
Swarthy men gutted the collapse, using every nail & timber to build the eatery and it's long tables.
1🧵
3🧵
The matron, dutiful and mild in manner, brought the travelers beer, soft pretzels, and honey butter - leaving them to chitter and indulge.
4 🧵
5 🧵
One knocked over a pitcher and bowled himself over his chair as the woman to his shrieked from a dousing of cold beer.
6 🧵
The rest chided and piled on quip and comment, an echo chamber of dionysian grandeur.
My blood ran cold at sight of the Matron, stamping out from the kitchen. I dared not move, crouched in the dark rubble.
"There are those with nine lives
and those without.
Those who know fear
which are the devout.
Fed on beast and man
And humble rat,
Tis devils and Hell Hounds that
confess'd to the cat!"
8 🧵
I saw -
9 🧵
There was no air to scream.
10 🧵
The next howl of pain bade my body to flee in blind, mute, inhuman horror.
11/11
I hope you enjoy the early style of writing, as it fits with how I perceived the world of the dream.
In time - I hope to forget.
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I’m torn on how to approach the idea of luck. I’m the first to admit that I am one of the luckiest people on the planet. To be born into a prosperous American family in 1960 with smart parents is to start life on third base. The odds against my very existence are astronomical.
I’ve always felt that the luckiest people I know had a talent for recognizing circumstances, not of their own making, that were conducive to a favorable outcome and their ability to quickly take advantage of them.
In other words, dumb luck was just that, it required no awareness on the person’s part, whereas “smart” luck involved awareness followed by action before the circumstances changed.
So, was I “lucky” to be born when I was—nothing I had any control over—and that I came of age just as huge databases and computers were advancing to the point where I could use those tools to write “What Works on Wall Street?” Absolutely.
Was I lucky to start my stock market investments near the peak of interest rates which allowed me to spend the majority of my adult life in a falling rate environment? Yup.
Ironies of Luck https://t.co/5BPWGbAxFi
— Morgan Housel (@morganhousel) March 14, 2018
"Luck is the flip side of risk. They are mirrored cousins, driven by the same thing: You are one person in a 7 billion player game, and the accidental impact of other people\u2019s actions can be more consequential than your own."
I’ve always felt that the luckiest people I know had a talent for recognizing circumstances, not of their own making, that were conducive to a favorable outcome and their ability to quickly take advantage of them.
In other words, dumb luck was just that, it required no awareness on the person’s part, whereas “smart” luck involved awareness followed by action before the circumstances changed.
So, was I “lucky” to be born when I was—nothing I had any control over—and that I came of age just as huge databases and computers were advancing to the point where I could use those tools to write “What Works on Wall Street?” Absolutely.
Was I lucky to start my stock market investments near the peak of interest rates which allowed me to spend the majority of my adult life in a falling rate environment? Yup.
