She's just some chick living on the same planet as me

people were crowding outside, smoking cigarettes and gossiping on their cell phones and posing against the wall, as if they were models or something. the cops kept patrolling the corner, circling the block like vultures, but no one was making any trouble, everyone was acting cool. I'd gotten there a few hours before and had been killing time with nicotine, checking my cell phone for missed calls and text messages, posing under the street lamps just like the rest of them. I didnt want to go in because not only was larry not there yet, but I only had about 15 dollars in my wallet and drinks were 6 bucks a piece. thats about two scotch and sodas including tip. I gotta pace my budget these days, shits not like it used to be.

larry was my plus one on the guest list. he told me he'd meet me in the front. said he'd be there before me probably. but like money loaned and sunshine on saturday, I wasnt counting on anything being certain. and I was right, because that fool never came, a couple of minutes after my third rolled smoke he sent me a text bailing out. something about going to a salsa club with some girls he'd met in line at a bar in the city. I shrugged my shoulders and stubbed out my cigarette. then I showed my hand stamp and walked into the club, trying not to look arrogant as I passed by everyone in line.

I ordered my first drink and sucked it down in under two minutes. the bartenders made them weak and I made a mental note to myself not to visit another party there. I talked to a friend of mine, a butterfly that flaps his wings at every party in new york. not a dancefloor goes unstomped by him. not an act goes unseen. not a performance is made without him shaping an opinion on it. not a hand goes unshook. he was hanging out with the editor of a magazine. he introduced us but we'd already met.

-hows your business going? the magazine guy asked, I hear you got some hot shit coming out.

I got the bartenders attention and ordered another drink, he had a tight black tshirt on and his head was bald and he had a tattoo on his neck. -its going good, I said, pretty fucking good.

I didnt feel like talking about business or politics or music or anything. I just wanted another drink and I wanted it quick because most people wont solicit conversation with you if your head is buried in a high ball glass.

I met with the label owner, who was throwing the party. he was standing by the dj booth surrounded by girls in tight tank tops and dudes with dreadlocks. I set a meeting up for an afternoon during the week. we shook hands and said we'd see eachother soon. he looked distracted the whole time, keeping an eye over each of my shoulders, sipping his pint absent mindedly. I didnt ask for drink tickets, I didnt want to stay that long.

I went outside for one more smoke and as I'm rolling it I spot her leaning against a pole, a menthol bent from her lips, the minty smell of cancer hanging in front of her face and neck. she had on all black. black pants. black shoes. black top. black hair. she looked bored and preoccupied, so I asked her for a light.

all around us are people. a guy with long hair pulled back into a pony tail walks a dog that looks too big for him. a thug is getting hassled at the door by a security guard for not being on the list. two white girls lean against a car and one starts telling the other how she told this guy off and the other just keeps saying "word," in agreement, as if her hair got blond in the ghetto. two japanese kids are standing on the corner, one on his cell phone and the other just staring at the sky. he has a camera in a pack slung around his shoulder, hoping, I guess, to sight some celebrities.

she had casual eyes and an easy voice and when she asked why I was there I answered quick and honest like we had known one another forever. I explained my situation calmly. I was there for work. I had to meet with a label. I had to make an appearance. but id rather be home in bed. she laughed at my indifference and it was slow and warm. then when I asked her why she was there she smiled and said, I guess I came to meet you.

young and hungry, she needed a job in the industry. -i'm great at promotions and press relations, she said, you need an assistant? I looked into her to see how serious she was. she had dark eyes and brown skin. she was pretty like a piece of music. a classic album cut. i'll work for pretty much nothing, she added. I paused then asked what nothing was. nothing isnt always nothing for some people. nothing came be pretty much everything. nothing can be the world. but she promised, it could be nothing. maybe a lunch. maybe just some recognition. not much. nothing at all.

she said, are you going back in? and she crushed the butt of her cigarette on the light pole. I threw my hands up in surrender. not me. not tonight. I'm going home. she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. -so what exactly can you do? I asked. what could you assist me in?

I can write, she said proudly, confidently, I can write anything. my eyes widened. oh yeah? I asked, you can write? hell, I said, I write. wanna battle? we can match prose, I joked. her smile grew wider, it was beautiful, like shade on a day of burning heat. I smiled back. -yeah i'll battle you, she said and laughed that laugh. then I laughed and put my hand on her shoulder, innocently. then we laughed some more.

you go inside, I said, take my number, I might have something for you. she pulled out her phone and took it down. i'll call you on monday, she said. dont forget me! I smirked at her, I wouldnt forget her. even though I didnt know her. even though she was just a passing conversation on a friday night. even though she was nothing but some chick living on the same planet as me. I wouldnt forget her, that was for sure. and the next morning, when I woke up, and the sun held high, too late in the afternoon, she was the very first thing I thought of.

******************************************************
look, just because my girlfriends out of town for a few weeksdont get any ideas. sure, the cats away, bu I love my woman. I adore her. but I flirt a lot and have a special appreciation for attention from pretty girls. so sue me. this post was meh anyway. I'm too drunk to be writing. to make it up to you, here are some goodies. check out there AMAZING crunk covers to radiohead songs. I know I know, it sounds silly on paper, but its awesome on the stereo. also, you should check out the amazing alexander robtinik mixes on this page, the 80's electro disco mix tickles me in places that I wish to be tickled more. and finally, I'm not sure if this is really funny [I could have dont a better job, and did, about 4 years ago] but it is entertaining to say the least. long though. whatever. I liked it, so taste it. is it good to you?