cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Also, let's get married My friend's girlfriend is missing. She has terminal cancer, but should be good for another year or so. Molly has been missing for over 24 hours and it is cold as fuck here. He doesn't have a drivers license so I offered to be his personal driver effective immediately to go look for her. I'm sitting here, awake, at almost 4 am because I'm waiting to hear from him. I didn't get the 3 month job covering the General Assembly. I found out today at around 2:30 pm. Fifteen minutes later I decided that I need to put together an expedition. It will take roughly three months to get a book deal for a book about my personal experiences covering the prelude, action, and ensuing fallout related to the riot in my hometown of Charlottesville, Virginia. Meanwhile, I need to not only make a living but do constructive work. So I almost immediately pitched a series of articles involving me reporting from Puerto Rico about how utterly fucked up that whole situation that still is. My plan is to go to Puerto Rico for around 10 days and write 4-6 articles about how fucked up all of that shit is. I have done great things as a journalist in this sort of situation. The work resulting from my two trips to Panama this past year are one example -- go watch the second episode of 'Latin America's 72 M0st D@ngerous Animals' on Netflix and you'll see me in the bl@ck widow episode. Not that this was especially great -- my articles for Sm1thsonian Magazine about those expeditions were far better. Anyway, my basic instinct is to look for who is getting fucked over and to try to tell their story. Well, the Puerto Ricans are getting fucked over. So I pitched that shit within hours. On more studied reflection, no doubt that I could find more important or relevant places to report from. But I don't give a fuck. These people are getting fucked over right now. I'm gonna go there and tell their stories. I'm gonna talk about how they don't have electricity to run a plant that supplies IV bags to almost everyone who walks into an emergency room in the US. Yeah, fuck you. Fuck you. I'm gonna write about what's really happening. So fuck all that. Meanwhile, I asked Lauren out for NYE. Which is fucking dangerous because I am broke as fuck. And tomorrow (such as the day is) I'm supposed to collect the twelve hundred dollars that I am owed for having made the definitive film about 8/12 here in Charlottesville. Just fucking pay me. Really. This is in advance of anything back from Lauren. Whom I would like to marry. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and that would be ok. 3:41 a.m. - 2017-12-31 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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