So today, I went down the docks with a couple of organizers who taught me about misclassification and the unfair treatment of truck drivers. It was fascinating, and I’ve been working on the story tonight. I think there are several stories here, so I won’t reveal too much.
But it’s 9:37 p.m., and I’m tired, because I’ve been trying to write this story. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve written a straight news story, but it’s clicking again. It was really great to see the docks, talk to truckers and union workers who really had an intimate understanding of the ports. Honestly, my knowledge is pretty slim. But with the introduction I have received to that amazing place, I feel like it was meant to happen. I hope to write about the port more.
Every time I go to the port or see those tremendous cranes holding up the sky, I think of Philip Levine — my favorite poet. I was lucky enough to interview him for the LA Weekly blogs, and that was an honor. He writes about the beauty and struggle in work. And I can’t help but see it, too. The cranes, the truck drivers, the dirt and sweat. Believe me, I’m glad that I’m not working manual labor anymore, but it teaches us so much about life. Some people love to work with their hands out in the shit. Some people love to hump wheelbarrows filled with mulch. But that isn’t me. I love clacking these keys. I hope I can make it pay.
Well, I have another deadline this Friday, and I have a rare problem: I have so much information and conversations I’m afraid I won’t be able to fit it all in. Well, tomorrow it’s just time to sit down and write the damn thing.
Also, it looks like I will have a reading this weekend. But I don’t want to say for what or where until I know it’s confirmed. So stayed tuned for that knowledge.
Okay, I’m beat. Goodnight everyone.