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Imaginary Money; Imaginary Feeling States
Jan. 16th, 2016 07:36 amI’m wondering why the U.S. stock market slide isn’t getting more press.
True, it hasn’t come close to breaking any one-day records for Biggest! Drop! Ever! but 1,400 points in a week is not insignificant.
It’s kind of a wealth redistribution scenario: The collapse of the Chinese stock market is one driver, but exports to China only make up about 5% of all American manufacturing exports. The bigger influence is the low price of oil, which is a good thing for Americans at the pumps but a bad thing for speculators who prefer to gas prices to stay high.
I suppose it’s also factoring in December’s Federal Reserve interest hike. Which was only a quarter of one percent, but you know: Greed is greed.
I love reading headlines about the trillions of dollars of wealth that get wiped out when the stock market falls because, c’mon – It’s imaginary money. So every time I read one of those headlines, I feel as though I’ve wandered into some magical universe where imagination trumps grim reality.
It’s the same feeling I get when I buy a Powerball ticket.
And once again, I did not win Powerball.
###
In other news, I continue to feel sad, sad, sad, which to a large extent, I’m sure is due to light deprivation. I feel as though everything would be profoundly okay if only I could have a rapid-fire, five-hour conversation with someone who gets it – but the fact is I do have conversations with people who “get” it all the time. They don’t last five hours, but hey! I’d probably get restless if they did. These days I’m surrounded by people who are affectionately disposed toward me, so there’s really no substance behind my feelings of intense alienation and detachment other than the fact that that’s a deeply embedded, knee-jerk reaction on my part. I just try to pretend I’m feeling engaged. Do the walk, and maybe you’ll feel the talk.
Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now, Doris Lessing writes. The conditions are always impossible.
And possibly that’s the real reason I’m in a funk: I haven’t done any real writing in over 10 days.
###
Meanwhile, JR turns out to have hooked up with this really narcissistic skank in the last six months of his life who is papering Facebook with all sorts of ridiculous pix, including this one:
Just how do those wings fit into one of those Armani suits JR favored, one wonders.
I’m breathlessly awaiting the sex tape.
True, it hasn’t come close to breaking any one-day records for Biggest! Drop! Ever! but 1,400 points in a week is not insignificant.
It’s kind of a wealth redistribution scenario: The collapse of the Chinese stock market is one driver, but exports to China only make up about 5% of all American manufacturing exports. The bigger influence is the low price of oil, which is a good thing for Americans at the pumps but a bad thing for speculators who prefer to gas prices to stay high.
I suppose it’s also factoring in December’s Federal Reserve interest hike. Which was only a quarter of one percent, but you know: Greed is greed.
I love reading headlines about the trillions of dollars of wealth that get wiped out when the stock market falls because, c’mon – It’s imaginary money. So every time I read one of those headlines, I feel as though I’ve wandered into some magical universe where imagination trumps grim reality.
It’s the same feeling I get when I buy a Powerball ticket.
And once again, I did not win Powerball.
###
In other news, I continue to feel sad, sad, sad, which to a large extent, I’m sure is due to light deprivation. I feel as though everything would be profoundly okay if only I could have a rapid-fire, five-hour conversation with someone who gets it – but the fact is I do have conversations with people who “get” it all the time. They don’t last five hours, but hey! I’d probably get restless if they did. These days I’m surrounded by people who are affectionately disposed toward me, so there’s really no substance behind my feelings of intense alienation and detachment other than the fact that that’s a deeply embedded, knee-jerk reaction on my part. I just try to pretend I’m feeling engaged. Do the walk, and maybe you’ll feel the talk.
Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now, Doris Lessing writes. The conditions are always impossible.
And possibly that’s the real reason I’m in a funk: I haven’t done any real writing in over 10 days.
###
Meanwhile, JR turns out to have hooked up with this really narcissistic skank in the last six months of his life who is papering Facebook with all sorts of ridiculous pix, including this one:
Just how do those wings fit into one of those Armani suits JR favored, one wonders.
I’m breathlessly awaiting the sex tape.
