I seldom know who’s paying me or what they do; only my few friends lucky enough to have jobs do. My phone will buzz, and if I bid low enough I’ll get to do things that will feel like isolated musical notes, meaningless on their own, in places that sometimes will appear later in the news in ways I won’t be able to relate to my own actions but also won’t try to.
A wordless feeling will keep me from adding to the pain and outrage of the comment threads, but the daily rent payments sometimes don’t leave me enough for food, so I’m always hoping my phone will buzz with a new incomprehensible gig, and when it does I always bid low.