Back in the day when I tried to trade bitcoin, I thought I was a genius because I got lucky. Trading from my phone while bouncing around South America with nothing but a backpack and a nylon-string guitar I bought for 270 Reals in Brasil. Just getting drunk and making out with Argentinian and Brazilian girls covered in glitter at carnaval bloquinhos along Ipanema Beach with the private keys to $100,000 worth of bitcoin and shitcoins scrawled on a discrete corner of a page in my journal tucked in a pocket of my shitty ripped backpack. I’m surprised I made it back sometimes.
