cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I can't fucking believe I'm applying for this job I applied for a job tonight that I didn't think I would. A certain amount of wine played a role in that. For around three years I freelanced for the number two paper in Charlottesville, The C-V1lle W33kly. And my shit was good. I wrote front-page features, music stories, arts, politics, etc. I was well-placed to write the political stuff, having worked in politics years before and I knew where all the bodies were buried. They are hiring for a general assignment reporter. I applied for the job tonight. But here's the thing: I sort of fucked that last year. A locally well-known guy was on vacation in another state with a family friend, who was also from here and well-liked. The well-known guy got drunk and caused an accident in a golf cart, which killed the other guy. First guy was charged with manslaughter. I investigated and wrote a piece about the death and the charge. It was mostly a celebration of the life of the guy who died. People with money found out about the piece in progress, intervened with the publisher, and got the story killed. Months later, I was pissed. I posted the story I'd written on Facebook with an excoriation of the paper that had killed the article I wrote. The Cv1lle W33kly. Now I am applying for a job at the paper that I called out for hiding a killing. This is so fucked up. I am qualified for prestigious jobs at newspapers, universities and other institutions around the world But I have to go home, to Ch@rlottesvill3. And there are only but so many jobs available there. So this is what I'm dealing with now. 12:24 a.m. - 2019-08-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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