“Influx” by DJ Shadow which clocks in at 12:14.

Most people assume that Goes Cube allows me to eat sashimi à la carte every night at Nobu, buy Brooklyn brownstones in one cash payment, and purchase a vintage Fender for each and every show, only so afterward, I can toss it on the subway tracks just to watch an MTA train derail… and then buy the MTA a new train. So, you’ll be surprised when I tell you that, actually, Goes Cube is not wholly funding my rather lean existence. Nope. Not even close.

In order to make ends meet (or to get them “to acknowledge each other’s existence,” to quote Dr Katz), I write and edit copy. I do marketing and journalism, technical and creative. Being a freelancer is tough, and the work can be scarce sometimes. So, I’m always looking for new contracts*.

One of the places I like to look from time to time (because I’m apparently a glutton for punishment) is Craigslist. And that’s where this story begins.

Some jobs are for the college student, or for the person looking to get his or her foot in the door. And that’s fine. The job post will be very clear and unobnoxious about it. Usually, they’ll put in the title words like “unpaid” or “internship,” etc. But this particular ad just really got under my skin. The post has since -not surprisingly- been flagged for removal. But I found a web cache of the text, and here it is:

Seeking sharp satirical urban writer
Looking for a weekly urban social commentary writer for online website with a user network of 10 million built in. Person should be an innovative thinker with a witty and sharp perspective on life to write about the multifaceted perspectives of young urban people. Formats can (and should be) unique, in style of writing, original characters and themes. Having a familiarity with engaging in different social networking sites, blogs and news outlets is a major plus. Job can lead to future pay. If interested please e-mail samples of your work, which must be relevant to urban culture.

I decided immediately that I’d better put together a cover letter to let them know just how amazing I thought this opportunity was. Here’s the full text of that:

Dear… Let’s skip this part. In the city, there’s no time for pleasantries.

As a sharp, urban, satircal writer, I am particular about the kind of jobs I take. Hell, I won’t even look at certain job posts because, let’s face it, they’re beneath me - the kind of positions that would be satisfied by a mere putty knife, but shredded into gossamer strands by a veritable Ginsu blade like myself.

What kind of jobs do I, as a sharp, satirical, urban writer, consider? Good question. (Of course it is; I asked it.) Let me answer it in the best way possible: by not answering it at all. Instead, I’ll tell you what kind of a job I won’t consider. Take that status quo. Sorry, box, did it hurt when my giant brain punched through your wall just now? Because if it did, too bad: I don’t think inside the box. I don’t even think inside polygons.

Anyways…

If a job has to do with writing about covered bridges, grasses, soil, crops, or antique shops, I turn my back on it. I’m an urban writer, and I don’t have time to hang out at the General Store in some one stoplight town whose tallest building is a grain elevator. I’ll write about coked up traders on Wall Street. I’ll write about coked up hipsters in Bed-Stuy who set up music venues in their kitchens. I’ll write about coked up commuters struggling with the latest MTA fare hike. I’ll even write about the coked up guy who runs the deli I go to even though I know - I SWEAR I KNOW - they put their coked-covered thumbs on the scales when I order my Boars Head meats. In other words, if it’s not a gritty tale of coke and prostitution, then I won’t write about. Everything else might as well be some pointless subplot in Field Of Dreams.

Guess what: Never even saw it. Don’t have to. Only suckers watch that rural dreck.

I also won’t take any job where I have to write things that old people will read. Your job post says I should “be able to write about the multifaceted perspectives of young urban people.” You can go ahead and put a check in that box. That’s the only way I work, baby. Did you see how I called you “baby”? I don’t even know who you are, but that doesn’t matter because I don’t think you’re old. And that means you’re young. And that means you can roll with it when I call you “baby.” And if I’m wrong and you are old, then you’re probably offended. And if you are, then too bad, pops/gramma. Why don’t you just go back to watching your “stories” on TV, and us “kids” will be over here watching a YouTube video of a fat guy sitting on a dagger.

Technically that last sentence should end in a question mark, but I don’t have time to waste on a punctuation mark that looks like it needs Viagra.

But more than anything else is this: I will not take a job that promises to compensate me with money. As an urban writer, who doesn’t live in some low-rent town like Chicago, or Evanston, or Winnetka, but instead the granddaddy of them all New York City, my monthly rent is more than most people spend on their mortgages in year. I spend four dollars on a can of chicken broth. My weekly coffee bill is almost $50. My cost of living is about ten times the amount that some wannabe actor’s is in LA. That’s why I want to find a job that will take full advantage of my free time, incredible talents, and not pay me. Because, you see, like everyone else in NYC, I not only live on credit, I also live on distant and utterly foolish hope: Someday I won’t be so poor that I’m tempted to jump the turnstile…or steal that Vespa right there. So when I read your job post, and I saw “Job can lead to future pay,” I thought YES, DANGLE THAT CARROT!!!

So let’s recap:
Urban? I make the Beastie Boys look like farm boys.
Sharp? The other day, I figured out that my cat only likes to eat her wet food if it’s not all mashed up. Need I remind you that cats don’t speak English? They don’t even speak any language!
Motivated? If by “driven to work instead of sit around and watch People’s Court type shows because the commercials for bankruptcy help hit a bit too close to home,” then hell yes.
Satirical? Jonathan Swift is my homie for life.

As a wise man (me) once said: I’m awesome.

-David (or as I’m known in the city: KID WORDMAKER)

Buy Preemptive Strike HERE.

*if you would like to hire David as a writer or editor, he really is always looking for work (for monetary compensation), and can be contacted at goescube at goescube dot com.
**top photo of the “Field of Dreams” from HERE.

EAR FARM’s 8+ is a weekly feature that showcases songs longer than 8 minutes. Click HERE to see the songs recently featured in EF’s 8+.