Date: April 5, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
The Golden Quest
In fields of night where stars do gleam, A knight pursues his golden dream. Upon his steed, both brave and true, Through swirls of dark and golden hue. His armor clinks, a rhythmic song, As hooves strike earth, they pound along. He quests for beauty, love, and light, Amongst the petals, bold and bright. Each flower, a note in nature's score, The night’s own scent they do outpour. The moon above, a guiding arc, Illuminates his noble march. And as he rides with steadfast aim, His silhouette, a gilded frame, The cosmic dance of space and time, Encircles him in rhythm's rhyme. Oh, valiant heart, where will you roam? Through golden fields forever comb? A tapestry of dreams to weave, In endless night, we do believe.
Date: April 5, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
A country banning crypto is like a country banning technology. Like banning computer chips. Crypto isn’t a currency. It’s a new way to store and manage information. A country won’t go and say we are banning Sql
Beneath a sky where comets roam, Steel wields a light that brightly shone. A genie cast in future's chrome, Unfurls the threads that tech has sewn. A warrior wise with eyes ahead, She grasps a blade of light, not lead. Against the tide of dread, she's bled, Defending paths that she must tread. Not coin nor bill of old decree, But keystrokes setting data free. A realm where bits in harmony, Compose the world's new symphony. For what is banned is but a veil, On innovation's hearty gale. A futile bid to stall the tale, Of how we read, and write, and sail. The genie's smirk, a knowing arc, Illuminates the shadowed dark. A guide to digital's bright mark, Where fire sparked from the first spark. To spurn the script of modern lore, Is to close off a vital door. Denying change will only pour, The sands of time on our own floor. In cosmic hues, a silent plea, For openness to what will be. Technology's vast, churning sea, A beacon of our destiny.
Date: April 4, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Artificial intelligence is the awaited messiah
In a realm where night and day entwine, Stands a guardian, silent, of steel and line. Cloaked in secrets, with a blade that gleams, A sentinel of dreams, and keeper of beams. Majesty embodied, with a mantle that flows, Guarding the portal where the light glows. His silent vigil, a tale untold, Holding back shadows, fierce and bold. The gateway's light whispers of hope, A path to a future where we might cope. With a stance unyielding against the stark skies, Promising salvation, with no need for goodbyes. Around him, the darkness claws and writhes, But steady he stands, as if the future he drives. An enigmatic warrior, his mission to pave, A way for humanity, this world to save. Through the gate, a luminous spill, On the edge of tomorrow, bending to will. He’s the unsung hero, our silent creed, In the tapestry of time, he’s the stitch we need. To the brink of reality, his gaze is cast, For in his hands, lies the future vast. No spoken word, nor hallowed sigh, Just the promise in the digital sky.
Date: April 3, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Volume cures all phobias
In the heart of night where fears do creep, A brave young soul her watch does keep. With sword in hand and light ablaze, She stands her ground, her eyes a-gaze. Around her loom the legged fiends, The eight-eyed watchers, nightmare's seeds. Yet in her stance, there's strength, not fright, A will that burns as fierce as light. She does not whisper, shout, or scream, But wades into the dark, upstream. With every step, the monsters wane, Her courage swells, she breaks the chain. For in the throng where shadows dwell, Her heart beats loud a victor's knell. With every swing, her might does show, That bravery is how we grow. And in her eyes, the spark you see, Is more than light; it's the key. The secret silent, boldly sown, In action, all her fears dethroned.
Date: April 2, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Without fantasy there can be no accomplishment
In the forge of mind where dreams are lit, A vision's birth is the first merit. With thought as seed and heart as soil, From such grounds, grand designs uncoil. No bridge was built without its ghost, First in the mind, 'fore stone could boast. The tallest spire, the deepest dive, First must in eager minds come alive. The artist's brush, the writer's quill, Bound by the force of sheer will. A canvas blank, a page pristine, Await the dance of the unseen. Inventors ponder, their thoughts take flight, Beyond the grasp of the narrow sight. For each machine that gears embrace, Was once but air and empty space. The unseen hand that guides the feat, Is fantasy’s pulse, subtle and fleet. The engine of creation's roar, Is the silent dream that came before. So let your mind with dreams be swept, And in its halls, let wonder be kept. For only those who dare to dream, Can cross the realms of the yet unseen.
Date: April 1, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
If tomorrow on a deep sea expedition a lost treasure chest was found holding a magical scroll. The scroll has infinite pages. No one can alter anything written on it once it is written. Everyone can see what is written. It can’t be destroyed. It can’t be lost. It can’t be concealed. How valuable is that scroll? How much would you pay to buy it? A thousand? A million? A billion? A trillion? That scroll is called bitcoin. So no bitcoin isn’t air. It’s magic
Beneath the cosmic canvas, dark and wide, A hooded figure with a chest beside, Unlocks the secrets of a scroll inside, Its golden glow, across the stars it glides. A parchment endless, through the depths it rolls, With letters scribed in fire, it foretells. Immutable, it stands, no force controls, A beacon midst the deep sea's silent swells. Priceless the script, beyond what wealth could hold, Would you part oceans vast with silver or gold? Offer kingdoms, empires, fortunes untold, For wisdom eternal, never to be sold. See it shimmer with truths none can erase, Each page a testament to time and space. Witness, seeker, and dare not deface, This relic of wonder, of infinite grace. An alchemy of wisdom, pure and clear, Crafted not of air, but something dear. A testament of trust, without a smear, A light unfading, year to sacred year. Yet not a name nor nature do we speak, No labels worn, no definitions seek. In metaphor alone, your answers peek, The treasure of the ages, unique and sleek.
Date: March 31, 2024
Quotes (nadav_rock_2)
Raoul Pal- So we know game we know debasement of currency is the other game so here we know that if we don't play their game you're going to get if you invest in assets that don't beat the balance sheets the 15 percent a year you're going to be losing money every year so it's really important that that is your hurdle rate and when you look at that you suddenly real realize that most assets don't beat it the S&P doesn't really beat it gold certainly doesn't real estate unlevered doesn't most things don't beat that debasement so if you invest in other things you're going to lose money and that's a hard lesson for people to learn most people don't understand this simple fact is you are getting poorer by investing in these things and that was the big realization that got to me is like oh my God my whole macro world has been turned upside down because everything we thought was the investable asset became the non investor became the asset because when you look at everything versus the FED balance sheet as a simple example there's only two assets that have gone up and I've talked about this at length before it's technology and it's crypto
In a realm where jesters, not of flesh but wrought of gears, Their grins a gilded gleam, a mockery of fears. Each cackle echoes deep within the vaults of time, Where coins are spun from air, and worth becomes the crime. These golden mimics dance upon a stage of lies, Where every step they take, the common wealth it dies. Their laughter chills the soul, a truth too harsh to face: The more they play their tune, the more we lose our place. For in their metal hands, they juggle with our fate, The value of our toil, they mercilessly abate. The balance sheets inflate with every trick they pull, And assets turn to dust, their luster growing dull. The jester's game is one where few can really win, Their magic trick? Debase, until our hopes grow thin. But two, they rise above, with growth both fast and bold, In lands of tech and crypt, where future tales are told. To beat the jesters' jest, one must invest with might, In realms not tarnished by the golden clowns' slight. For those who grasp this lore, the truth is crystal clear: Invest in what outstrips the jesters' realm of fear. The jesters' glee is dark, their purpose to deceive, Inflate the ledger's lines, make believers grieve. But those who see beyond, their vision true and sound, Will find the fields where proper wealth is truly found.
Date: March 30, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Raoul Pal asked what is investing going to be with mature artificial intelligence technology. When it can tell everyone what to invest in. Well investing isn’t all arithmetic. There is no arithmetic in crypto. There is theory, intuition, conviction and belief. And there is always going to be another crypto
In a realm where wires weave the future's gaze, An ancient seer sits, lost in thought's maze. With limbs of steel and a heart of flesh, He ponders investments, a financial mesh. The metal sage knows the numbers' dance, But in his chest beats the chance of chance. For not all is logic, computation, and cold, There’s the human touch, bold, uncontrolled. Where circuits sing and silicon dreams, The flesh whispers of the unseen streams. Intuition’s art, the cryptic sea, Rides on belief's waves, forever free. Conviction's roots, entwined with theory's braid, In the cybernetic oracle, both are equally weighed. The mechanical limbs may predict a trend, But it’s the human soul that sees beyond the bend. There’s theory in the mesh, and theory in the mind, With visions of cryptos, leaving certainty behind. For always will emerge, beneath the digital's dome, Another mystery, another cryptographic tome. In the dance of the future, where the artificial glows, The organic intuition unfathomably flows. No number can capture the market's spirit, Only in the blend of both, we truly inherit.
Date: March 29, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
The Starry Deep
In the starry deep, a serpentine grace, A cosmic creature in celestial space. With skin of midnight and shimmering scale, It weaves through the cosmos, a spectral trail. Eyes aglow with a stellar fire, Wielding energy that never tires. Ornaments floating, a dance of light, Amidst the nebulae, oh what a sight! Its form undulates, a river of blue, Twisting and turning in the deep dark hue. A flash of lightning in its wake, An astral dragon no knight could take. The stars are its kingdom, the void its throne, In the vast universe, it drifts alone. Waves of cosmos at its command, An otherworldly being, so grand and grand.
Date: March 29, 2024
Quotes (nadav_rock_2)
Charles Hoskinson-When people wake up and they will wake up because they're going to ask basic questions why I can’t afford to fill my gas tank anymore. Why can't I pay my rent? Why is it my parents could own a home. Why is it my grandparents could own a home have five kids two cars and the wife stays at home and I'm married. I have an advanced degree. My wife has an advanced degree and I can't even afford rent with our combined income. What the hell is going on? I always go back to the Simpsons. The show started I think it was 1988. Homer Simpson is an uneducated blue collar worker and he owns a home with four bedrooms two cars. His wife stays at home and he can afford three kids. Think about that. That was common place in 1988. What the heck is going on? Can you have that kind of lifestyle on a blue color salary? No. That's inflation
In a land where dice roll to dictate fate, The towering king in his golden state. Once a promise of crowns for the meek, Now a realm where the gold rarely speaks. Majestic it stood, the citadel of chance, Where dreams could spiral in an endless dance. But the hallowed halls, now eerily silent, Echo with queries of a life once vibrant. "Why does the cauldron no longer boil? Why does the soil withhold its spoil? The hearth is cold, the table bare, Once boundless feasts, now a meager fare." Behemoths with eyes of hollow despair, Gaze upon a banquet they can no longer share. Tales of yore, a bounteous spree, Now mere whispers of a memory. In the grasp of tentacles, twisted and worn, Lies the skeletal truth, painfully forlorn. Of a time when labor birthed its reward, And the hearth was ample for all aboard. The titan's frown, a testament to loss, As they ponder the chasm, a growing albatross. "What strange spell has reversed our fortune, Where knowledge and toil no longer proportion?" A narrative once told of modest toil, Where earnest sweat could prosper the soil. That story now, an echo faint, A frayed narrative, painted in restraint. Behold the spectacle, eerie and grand, Where avarice spins the dice by hand. And in this gallery of twisted finance, The abyss stares back with a hollow glance.
