The first thing that hits you is a pungent acre smell, mixed with something strong and familiar. You’re awake. You open your eyes, or you think you do, it takes a few seconds for things to come into focus. A quick glance around solves the olfactory mystery: there’s vomit on the floor, and a percolator is dripping hot coffee in the bowl. It must have had a timer. You check your iWatch - fuck, the glass is cracked - 7.30. Thud thud thud, it’s like there’s a bird inside your head, thudding at your cranium. You wish it stopped. Thud thud thud. What a fucking party, you think. A party for the ages. You try to get up to get to that coffee, and you notice just then an arm is laid above your lap, it’s Jimmy’s. He looks still passed out. He’s naked, you’re naked. You can feel by how sticky your gut hair is that you must have come not long ago. Fuck, you think, how did this shit happen? Do we owe each other an apology? You wonder for a second, then you can clearly see how you will both avoid the topic and pretend this episode never existed. You hope it will not ruin your friendship. Probably not, you think. Probably not. You move Jimmy’s arm carefully, you really don’t want to wake him up and be forced to confront that reality there and then, and you get up.
As you make your way to the coffee bowl, more details surface from the room: the vomit yes, and some lines still on the sofa table, red paper cups everywhere on the floor. Bodies. Thud thud thud. The hammering bird doesn’t leave your head alone. Thud thud thud. You see Helen on the sofa, she’s passed out, in her panties. Meh, you think, she’s not that great out of her pants, but you still would. “Imagine the smell” you silently giggle to yourself, as hundreds of shitposts and memes materialise at once in your mind like a deja vu, as if encouraging you to dare. You are there contemplating if you should get closer for a quick sniff, but something catches the corner of your eyes: it’s Norris, the house cat. The cat is sitting and staring at you in silence. Fuck, it’s like these bastards can look into your soul. You abandon your plan and you reach the kitchen counter where you finally pour a cup of hot coffee and look around yourself. What a party. What a fucking party. Thud thud thud, hammers the bird. You’re still thinking about Helen’s panties, a few nice millimetres of cotton separating you from the bliss of … cotton. Cotton cotton cotton. You pass this word in your mouth with a strange taste. Thud thud says the bird. Cotton. What about cotton? Oh fuck. It strikes like a lightning. Cotton, of course. Prof Morrison is waiting for your essay on the Confederate Cotton Bonds from the Civil war. 5000 words by Monday, 9.30. It IS Monday, for Christ’s sake. What time it is? The cracked iWatch says 7.42. Thud thud thud, the bird in your head hammers. Shit, you think, FUCK.
The end of a bull market has as much psychological consequences as financial ones. Years of fucked up dopamine and endorphins bombardment suddenly comes to a halt, much as the liquidity dries up in the market, and leaves disoriented at first, puzzled. Then comes the boredom, then the monkey on our shoulder starts hammering at us for that sweet sweet release of chemicals to the brain, we become desperate like drug addicts in withdrawal. Indeed, the end of a bull market can be compared in a way to waking up the morning after an insane party in which we were high and doing more and more extreme acts in euphoria, with a massive hangover, some regrets, some great memories and a sense of dread for the sobering and soul crushing return to reality we must soon face.
90% of amateur stock traders go bust. I believe the crypto trader number to be higher.
For those of us who managed to make, and then secure enough money in the bull market to sit comfortable and pontificate about high concepts, these slow and boring times where we wait for the final capitulation of the market can be a time to reset our messed up brain chemistry, but also times for reflection.
I make this premise because what I intend to write about could be misread as the salty ranting of someone who went bust or missed entirely one of the latest trains to escape poverty before Ze Great Reset, but it actually comes from someone who manage to secure quite substantial profits from this market, and was able to do so without falling into any of many maximalist pits spread around the crypto space.
So, as per the title, I want to soberly reflect on the state of crypto today, and hopefully generate some meaningful conversation about it in replies to this post.
The next coming articles will cover distinct sections, namely BTC, ETH, defi, NFTs.
sir i enjoy your writing a lot
Very well written Heart, this time is apt to reflect on things that went wrong, and rather focus on what prevailed (got no choice besides that). Plus I feel the environment is so slow, boring, it is the best time to focus on fundamentals & cut exposure to ponzis which are never going to get back to its feet. This is a perfect moment to double down on learning, understanding the ropes of ecosystem & cementing your thesis!
Certainly many of us have lost their life savings but this time is here to make all of it back in a sustainable, sober fashion! It's going to be a hard path but worth it.
The party is over, the hangover is here be to help us introspect & remediate on the wrongs that happened/would have happened.
Happy Sunday :)