My Non Fungible Journey in NFT Land (Part II)

I won’t recommend “investing” in it unless someone really likes a piece of art, wants to reward its authors, or are simply happy to own an NFT for a utility they can clearly understand.

Plus, it’s definitely not scalable as an investment means, you can make a profit by speculating and flipping, but only a few NFTs at a time won’t make anyone rich, except very few lottery winners.

2.1 Zen Academy & The Littles

My Little NFT

2.2 Weiner Fish

2.3 The 100 Pieces of Shit

2.4 The Chain Runners

Chain Runner #8368

Jake, the clown, rising star ’96.

Of all clowns, he smiled widest With chequered shoes that clapped, tapped and doubled up when bowling on Tuesdays. His red nose shone a Mario red, his painted face never smudged, even on the longest, sweatiest days. He made them all laugh.The cool chaperone, torn away from her copy of seventeen, the miner mourning a dying industry, the kid who’d lost his yo-yo to the bigger kid down the street. The desert storm veterans. All of them, for that one moment, were lost in his trail of pure, clown-like joy. He even won an award, rising star Regionals ’96.

But that was before. Before the rent started rising and bookings dwindled. Before someone threw a vanilla shake at him on the sidewalk, telling him to ‘get a life, paedo’. And when the lights dimmed on yet another half sold show, jake decided the gun would shoot ‘bang!’ one last time.

Out came the other costume, the funky bandana, the Morpheus glasses, a piercing, a monroe they call it, and a small hoop earring, on both sides. This is what cool people wear now days, right? Jake would laugh to himself, ‘the jokes on you kid’.

The year was 1999. Jake was 28. He took a job at Starbucks. His friends called it a ‘real job’ He bought a McIntosh and started calling things ‘da bomb’ He’d lose his first real savings in the 2001 dot com crash. A few years later he’d make enough cash to start a yoga studio. He’d sell banging fruit smoothies with açai berries and superfoods. He liked the new OutKast CD. On the weeknights he let local bands practice at the studio.

In ’06 he’d meet his wife, an interior designer called Jocelyn, a vegetarian. She’d divorce him two years later, for the late nights and weekends away.

He died in a car crash in 2014. He was 44. Jocelyn was left his journal. Turns out Jake the clown had returned at some point in the spring of ’03.

At the front of the journal, it read: ‘ I lived to make people laugh, Everything else was just clowning around.’
Scruffy Runners

2.5 Conclusion



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