pulpfiction

When you're forty-seven, living alone, with a few million dollars sitting in your brokerage account, you start to suspect that God really does exist. He just has a strange sense of humor.
Jack Lawson was exactly that kind of man.
He started with three thousand dollars borrowed from his ex-wife. Five years later, he had two million eight hundred thousand. He traded bitcoin, ether, and anything that could rise forty percent in a day and then pretend the next day it had never known him.

When you have no money, you know exactly how much life costs. Five dollars is beer and a pack of cigarettes. Ten dollars—you can buy meat. Forty dollars—that’s already cause for celebration. And if you have a hundred and twenty left on your card, you start to feel almost rich and walk home so you don’t spend three dollars on a cab.