And by “journalist”, I mean "sham".
I am tired when I drive home in the afternoons – but I reward myself by listening to pop music. The furthest music possible from current events. I even get this little illicit rush from it. This is how I know I’m not a real journalist, sadly. I’ve met real journalists, and they’re always on the job – that being, taking in newsnewsnews 24-fucking-7.

I’ve met newspeople from local t.v. and radio stations I never listen to or watch. Talk radio. They know their local politics inside-out. They’re up all night, watching C-SPAN. They get up early to scan the Internet news. Not because they have to for their jobs, but because it's what they live for. They were Born seeking the Deep Burning Flame of NewsTruth.

And while they climb ever higher on their mountains of discovery and soundbytes, I race by in my car, listening to The Shins. And I am driving to somewhere far, far away.

So I’m not a real journalist; this I know. I’m a writer and a listener of interesting cultural and political Stuff.

I know what’s going on in the world. (And “Hey,” you can hear her say. “I listen to N.P.R., maaan. I read the New York Times.”)

There is some Truth I’m looking for that sings to me a catchier poetry than the Council President’s reported dastardly doings with city funds. When I’m doing the kind of writing I like to do about the nonfiction subjects that interest me, I feel good and right. I just need to get to the point where I’m feeling that way as much as possible.

Girl, You Know it’s True
And on those pop songs I love so – excluding the above, I’ve noticed this proliferation of the ubiquitous girl known as “Girl.” The Shins, the White Stripes and Pavement are three bands that frequent my little car, and all three are all about Ms. Girl, always telling her she’s so damn foolish in this way and that, or so naïve, or living in the past or otherwise deluded. That’s always the case with Girl in these songs I love.

Yeah, you see, and “Boy” just doesn’t cut it as an equivalent to me. Although Liz Phair could’ve gotten away with it in her glory days I think, and probably did in some song I can’t think of at this brain-addled moment. Hmmm. That Girl, though; I wish she’d get her shit together, already.