Notes From Gordon: Late Night Trading With Shorty Long

Warning: Hide the children and the church ladies. The following incorporates Forex trading terminology (bolded) and is mildly salacious. I wrote it many years ago when I was young and immature. I promise you I have corrected this shortcoming.

Late Night Trading With Shorty Long 

It was a steamy, range-bound night in Bangkok.

The buzzing neon sign outside my hotel window was driving me crazy.

I was in my twelfth straight hour of trading and fatigue was setting in like the dirty brown haze blanketing the street below.

My resistance must have retested a new low because the congestion I was feeling at the head and shoulders had turned my concentration into a spinning top. 

An FOMC announcement had sent my equity skidding like an overloaded semi.

I was working on my eighth cup of coffee, surviving on Cheetos and still looking for an exit ramp when there was a knock on the door.

It was that oriental dame I spotted earlier at the sushi bar on Channel Street.

Said her name was Ichimoku.

A real knockout—poured into a red slit satin dress with one leg out which reminded me to leg out of some open positions and keep one eye on the screen.

But it wasn't easy.

This dame was advancing in a trending move that was creating a bullish engulfing pattern.

Apparently word had gotten around that I was teaching the locals how to steal pips from those New York weenies.

Icimoku smiled as she perched on the corner of my desk, and I couldn't help but notice a nice bottom formation that reminded me I'd better keep my shorts on.

Said she needed bigger pips.

I thought she was doing pretty well in that department already as I took a deep breath and expanded my margin.

Said she had a yen for a new life, free from the drudgery as receptionist at the Evening Star Cafe and could I help?

Just then price plunged deeply below the neckline.

As Ichimoku bent to take a closer look I spotted a double top formation with no visible means of support, and I couldn't help thinking that Blanche had never expanded my range this way.

I nonchalantly stepped out from behind my trading desk and took her hand.

Channeling Mae West she asked, “Is that a candle in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

But I knew she wasn't as tough as she looked.

It was all a façade.

Her hand was shaking and she started to blubber.

"Every time I think the MACD shows positive divergence on an overbought stochastic that goes above the 80 line and I get a nice close above a significant pivot, price reverses and pulls back to the breakout," she blubbered.

"So I panic and close my position, only to have price go right where I thought it would in the first place. It's been so long since I had a good instructor and I'm so frustrated! I need a man who knows how to get me in and out of new positions without exiting prematurely. Can you teach me?"

Boy, could I ever.

If there was one thing I was qualified for in this world, it was to teach Ichimoku how to hit higher highs until she was thoroughly drained of all trading anxiety and could concentrate on her charts.

 Of course this would require numerous late night sessions, but it was a sacrifice I would just have to make.

All in all, it was just another night in the big city.

That crazy euro trade worked out OK, and I had a new student.

Tomorrow I could sleep, but right now things were trending up and I had some new moves to put on.

It's a tough job being a Forex instructor, but somebody's gotta' do it.