I am the Carrot Guy, I am also an advertising, marketing guru-guy/dude. Anyway check out http://www.rightbrainliam.com and hire me to get your company noticed.
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I spent 5 hours at the Brooklyn Flea last Saturday with my face buried in racks of clothing from days gone by. Everything around me seemed to have value, seemed to have a story, a previous owner who loved, cherished, protected and valued that thing.
Not only that but everything was beautiful.
Perfect in spite of their seemingly obvious imperfections.
Whoever made these things, whether it was a baseball bat from 1938 or a map of Lemberg from 1886 cared about what they were making. They were creating value and adding to the natural beauty of the world around them. They did this by transforming some piece of that natural world for themselves or to make money for themselves – true artisanship.
Contrast this with the shopping mall I spent an hour in (no purchases made) just before Christmas. Very little aesthetic value (unless you’re in the Apple store and maybe 2-3 clothes stores) anywhere. Brands melded together and there was nothing distinct from one place to the next except for the name out front.
We need to re-imagine the world. Re-imagine the way we make things. Creative class, this means seeking work (as much as possible) that will enhance the world around us and not just become a part of a growing grey mass.
We must rise up and ‘flea’ from all that which is not beautiful, interesting or of value. If we can stop churning out ‘things’ or ads for the sake of doing it, we just might create change and make the world a lot more like the Brooklyn Flea. Trust me, it’s a lovely place.
Everywhere I’ve gone in life I’ve known everyone and been the “go-to-guy.”
School board trustee, public speaker, university student president, TV show host, frosh week coordinator, fundraiser etc.
Today, I am 1 and a half months into an internship at an awesome agency. It’s been an adjustment to say the least.
I make zero dollars a day, I am not known by everybody – in fact not known by most. People don’t come to me for advice, in fact I seek it out.
But what I don’t make in dollars I more than make up for in learning about life, myself and the advertising industry.
Anyway, this is all to say that while the internship is tough I am loving it. With a month and a half left, having overcome a cold, I’m psyched.
My abject poverty is relieved by my freelance work which is picking up more and more these days. Up to four clients now. Sweet ass, super sweet.
In the meantime I will keep running (another half marathon next weekend), volunteering with the needy, biking all over the city, singing in a choir and living a life full of passion.
Happy Thanksgiving peeps!
Okay – I haven’t posted in a while. This has undoubtedly pleased some of you and hopefully disappointed most others.
Anyway, I pledge to post more in the coming weeks, and today as a treat I have linked you to a post I just had published at Grip Limited where I am interning.
That’s right, this is SYNDICATED! Haha, I wish. Anyway, Click here now to read it.
So now that I have written my heartfelt goodbye I will take 2 minutes to make a pseudo awesome announcement:
I got an internship at my favourite ad agency in TO! I start this week, Tuesday at 9:15am to be exact. For some of you this will be a complete surprise because I have kept it relatively quiet (I found out just under a week ago) but that was mainly because it felt like somebody gave me the shocker.
Anyway, I cannot wait to be in Toronto (yes, Ottawa people I will miss you deeply).
I am going to be working at Grip Limited as an Copywriting Intern. I will do anything they need me to do, including bathroom cleaning if necessary. I don’t care. So onward and upward! This is huge, this place is amazing, it’s one of Toronto’s top employers, it has a firepole and slide to get from one floor to another and bud light on tap.
Then there’s the work: some of the top clients you could hope for. Honda, Budweiser, so on and so forth. I will chronicle my journey into the ad world as I continue this insanely awesome journey. The end of poverty is nigh.
Hi historian, friend, mentor, hobbyist or archaeologist, son and or daughter:
You have no doubt been looking for this time capsule for many years. I left this here many, many years ago. I left it here before I fell in love, before I did anything of any consequence. These were simpler times where my only worries were figuring out how I was going to eat my next meal. Now life has become a mix-up of sorts with more layers than a painted window sill in a one hundred year old home on Main Street. I want to share this with you because I love you.
Storybooks are fun. Mine will introduce you to the friends I had (and still have) from this time, to the places I went to, the food I ate, the drinks I drank, the trials I had, the thrills I sought, the tears I shed, the smiles I smiled and the love that I gave and received. And yes, did I ever receive love, more than I could have ever imagined. When you grow old like I am now many years after having written this you will realize that life is beautiful and so are the people who will weave in and out of it. Your memories will scatter across your soul like the stars in the night sky. Some will shine brighter than others, some will glow warm and some will be cold, even blue. You will have moments of brilliance like a shooting star across the canvass that is galaxy.
The last year of my life, the year this time capsule chronicles, has had moments of brilliance, many memories, moments of consequence and instances of frustration.
This is my goodbye to a city and to the people that added colour to every waking moment:
One midnight greyhound ticket from Peterborough to Ottawa, soon after that a mended heart. A voucher for the Arbuckle inn. Late night Metro receipts, napkins stained with purple with the familiar smell of garlic sauce encrusted with hummus. A roll of quarters and a pick up time at Browns. A pint glass from the Manx a reminder of the jokes and plans that started three pints in. Pictures of the girls I’ve kissed, the ones I didn’t and the ones I liked. A transpo ticket to get to ‘burbs (life really is different there), and movie ticket stubs. Guides to theatres that were more beautiful than the movies themselves, at times. Photos of converted city streets made into walkways at night. A pair of worn out running shoes which ran the half, explored the canal, the ottawa, rideau and whatamacallit rivers, iPhone shots of Pink Lake, Christmas trees, happy times and sad times. Tattered and torn coasters with the stains of despair, hope and mischievousness. Bowls of stale cheetos and the playlists from free jukeboxes. A framed degree and a paystub, and student loan statements. Cards from staffers who were more partisan than their bosses and cards from bosses who were less knowledgable than their staffers. Late night scribbles in a notepad, the thoughts of an insomniac. A headrest slip and broken dreams. Balance statements in the red, in the black and in the red again. IOU’s and thank you’s for friends and family, prayer cards and church bulletins. A soul lost and a soul discovered. A new school pin, an old school pin. Directions to a new friend’s house, blindfolded journeys to the old ones. Boat rides and dingy bells with candle light sandwiches. Ford Escorts made king size sofa and early mornings stretched into afternoons. Love at first sight found on Christmas eve, love that fades and love that was. Turkeys and impromptu parties. Silly sweaters and stories of years gone by. Risk and the Cave, into the woods only we didn’t starve. Bowties and gin, manliness and sushi. Rama Lotus and hyperventilation, Ed Hum and special mind spots. Plastic bags as socks and late night walks. Restaurants without windows and a parliament without a Prime Minister. Homemade meals from friends who cared and lipstick stains from the nights I dared. Cakes baked and cottage mornings by the lake. Crosswords and buzzwords, shawarma and free salsa. A termination and a congratulation(s). Chat logs and early morning skype talks, a change of heart and a brand new start. Festivals, ghost walks, rainy Fridays, Shakespeare in the Park, and spicy eggplant please. Red wine in carpets, two days later PBR in Brooklyn. Broken hearts, smelly farts and even better freshly baked tarts. Nutella and Sriracha sandwiches. Enjoy them said Mr. Zevon, and enjoy them I did.
I love you all, more than you could possibly imagine.
Living a life full of love,
How do you catch the attention of people you want to talk to?
When I write to ad agencies about job openings I act as though I have less than 3 seconds to ensnare them. I try to lock them into a type of conversation but it’s weird because I am only one speaking. I have recently changed my letter that I send to prospective employers.
I try to communicate the following:
1. I can write properly
2. I am fun(ny)
3. I am not a douche bag
4. I am creative
5. I will do anything, including any and all manual labour to get into the industry.
My letter has a certain “Davy Crocket-esque” feel to it, see for yourself:
I just finished reading your website and I felt compelled by the power of Bill Bernbach to write to you and introduce myself. I hope you have 5 minutes or are a speed reader with less than a minute to spare.
We haven’t met before, but I think we should. You want interesting people, in fact you need them. So here I am – wanting to work for your agency. You have no idea how badly I want this – I actually dream about it.
I want to work as a copywriter in a Jr. position, an internship. Heck, I’d even dress up like a fern and stand in the front foyer during business hours to add to the decor if it meant me getting a crack at this place. All I need is enough to clothe, feed and house me. If you can do that at a minimum then we’re talking. If you can’t well I guess I could consider making an outfit out of loin cloth and sleeping in a self constructed log cabin in the woods. After all, I am from Canada and know how to survive this thing we call “winter” and we love the outdoors – a lot. As for the food part, I was never any good at fishing or hunting but I suppose I could give it a try if I had to, we have lots of moose and geese up here.
If you can’t stand the thought of me dressed as a potted plant in your office, then know that I just got a gig freelancing for Saatchi.
I realize you probably get more ‘job application’ emails than you could possibly shake a stick at – but I doubt you get many like this. So before you delete this I ask that you do a few things for me (I know we just met, relax, I am not asking you on a date or anything):
Read the cover letter I wrote for you (because I think it is super cool and therefore you will too) and take a look at my CV – it is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. I promise.
With all that in mind I have attached the following:
1. A mugshot so you can see who you are dealing with
2. Cover letter
4. An ad that I made just for you
The attachments are big so I would really appreciate it if you could email me to let me know that you received my application. This way I will know that this email hasn’t ended up in the nebulous world of the internets.
Also, you should know that my portfolio dwells in this internet cave:
http://files.me.com/liampatrickmooney/47bem6 – keep an eye out for the cover letter inside.There is a lot of spec ad material in there. You will find the most relevant stuff in the “Print” folder. If I modified an ad previously made I simply included the original, labeled it as such and included my revised versions with the new copy, you tell me if I improved the ads. Some of the ads are original concepts that I wrote and designed myself. My favourite work is in the “Smart Car” and “Vespa” folders located inside the “Print” folder.
Thank-you very much for considering my application and I hope to hear from you soon!
Think this is a stupid approach? I get ten personal responses everyday from agencies thanking me for this letter and my attachments. It might not be for everyone but in the eternal words of Lloyd Christmas those who like it, like a lot.
Yes, I know. Stop bothering me about the spec ads, they are coming.
Peace out brussel sprout,