In the high school I enjoyed Literature and Chemistry, thus - obviously - I went to the college to study Chemical Engineering. Four years later, also obviously, I gave up on all those esoteric calculations and sadistic teachers and moved to Economics. In the meantime, I had already started working in the financial market (the internship grant was about $20 higher than in the industry), which finances my cravings (Belgian beer, books, CDs and weird trips, basically) until present days. After I graduated I worked for some time as a de facto economist (in the research department of a big bank); a couple of years ago I was irreversibly seduced by the dark side of the force and currently I spend the rest of my sanity in the trading desk of a hedge fund. Recently I returned to the university as a History undergrad.
My intellectual heroes are John Maynard Keynes, Amartya Sen and, more recently, Nassim Taleb (and, consequently, Benoît Mandelbrot, though I just started to scratch his work). But if I could choose I'd rather be Tostão, a superb football player who helped Brazil to win the 1970 World Cup (playing, along with Pelé, Gérson and Rivellino, in the team that can be fairly described as the best ever), retired at the top of his career, became a psychiatry teacher and, on top of that, is a terrific writer.
I choose to use a nom de plume to avoid conflicts with my work -- the financial markets can be hostile towards those who dare to express their own opinions. E-mails are welcome to drunkeynesian [at] gmail [dot] com.
More about the blog here. Maybe this test can help the reader to find me in the ideological spectrum.
P.S. My English is the picturesque product of years spent reading bad comics, listening to gansta rap and watching soft porn movies (plus a couple of classes with a teacher from Rancho Cucamonga, California and a trauma after working with an obsessive-compulsive research editor); so don't hesitate to correct my possibly frequent gross mistakes. You should be thankful that you don't understand the even worse atrocities I commit against my mother tongue.
P.S. My English is the picturesque product of years spent reading bad comics, listening to gansta rap and watching soft porn movies (plus a couple of classes with a teacher from Rancho Cucamonga, California and a trauma after working with an obsessive-compulsive research editor); so don't hesitate to correct my possibly frequent gross mistakes. You should be thankful that you don't understand the even worse atrocities I commit against my mother tongue.
