We, the working people of the United States of America:
Requested help living. They handed us forms.
Requested knowledge. They sent us to schools.
Requested vocations. They gave us jobs.
Requested shelter. They asked for three months up front.
Requested nature. They gave us suburbs.
Requested freedom. They sold us cars.
Requested nutrition. They sold us Doritos.
Requested clean water. They sold us bottles of Coke.
Requested affordable used books. They gave us Amazon.
Requested romance. They gave us swipes.
Requested beauty. They sold us filters and Botox.
Requested power. They sold us pickups and guns.
Requested love. They sold us destination weddings.
Requested fair pay. They cut our benefits and extended our credit.
Requested space to dream. They sold us lotto tickets and reality TV.
Requested homes. They sold us mortgages.
Requested a break. They sold us Marlboros.
Requested treatment. They sold us pills.
Requested parties. They sold us hard seltzer.
Requested connection. They gave us Facebook.
Requested discourse. They gave us Twitter.
Requested truth. They gave us the New York Times and Fox News.
Requested fun. They sold us Disney.
Requested help making the pain to stop. They sold us Oxy.
Requested hearing what he and she had to say. They put him in jail and killed her.
Requested wisdom. They gave us ads.
Requested meaning. They sold us retirement.
Requested protection. They sent cops.
Requested law. They told us to get a lawyer.
Requested justice. They sent us to court and prison.
Requested leadership. They gave us government.
Requested help for our friends. They sent soldiers and airstrikes.
Requested vital care. They said we weren’t covered.
Requested they give the planet a break. They kept taking.
Requested more. They said they didn’t need us anymore.
We said we didn’t need them, they didn’t believe us.
They don’t hear. They don’t know.
Historically, I’m shitty at requesting things — for my labors or much else. Historicity and skill notwithstanding, I need support and I am requesting it from you, dear reader.
The Labor Is Real
I am currently working full-time waging all-out war against “them.” “They” are the 1-percenters holding the future hostage. They spend a lot of money controlling communication channels to stay in power.
It’s not a fair battle, but through marshaling my professional, intellectual, and familial resources, I’ve scored some wins. In July alone, I had two pieces published in well-distributed media outlets in major metros: namely, my piece with Lou Cespedes Fernandez in the Brooklyn Paper and my opinion piece in Boulder, Colorado’s Daily Camera. Lou and I are currently working on a follow-up piece, and I am pitching other external media outlets as well. I — hopefully we — are making progress.
This fight, while infinitely valuable, rewarding, and winnable, is not paying, which is problematic for me. Even if I weren’t writing all day, I’m a pariah in my industry (real estate consulting and developing), and am unemployable for a variety of understandable reasons.
I have only managed this long through irregular donations and defaulting on a bunch of cards — parting gifts for my twenty-five years of assiduous bill paying and credit building. As of writing this on September 1, 2020, I am unable to cover my very modest monthly living expenses, including rent.
With your support, I can avoid living out of my van again. I can continue fighting, writing, exposing, and doing whatever’s needed to shift the power from them to us — and doing so with a modicum of economic and physical security.
Please strongly consider a donation to me and my work today so I can keep going tomorrow: my Venmo is @davidcfriedlander.
I’m also eager to discuss what I’m up to with member of the press. I have a ton to say. I also do stuff for money: PR/Comms, AEC consulting, art. I emailed about any of the above at thecomplexmessiah [at] gmail.com.