meeting meesh

as a rule i do not meet up with people that contact me from the Internet. even if they’re super hot babes.

i like the internet because for the most part you will be judged by your thoughts and your thoughts only.

once someone sees you or hears your voice or watches you eat, they start changing their ideas about you. i don’t like that.

in a perfect world you’d only be judged by your ideas and how you express them.

our bodies are simply the cars that our souls ride in.

i know im not my hair, yet as it leaves me, i feel worse about myself, same goes when i had zits as a teen. as humans, it’s very hard to think differently.

similarly i want to extend the same courtesy to others, and simply reading their words and looking at their design is plenty for me. but inevitably i see their pictures, or they call me on the phone, and the idealism is shattered and my feelings about them change. rarely for the better.

when i heard that s.e. hinton, author of my favorite novels as a youth, “the outsiders,” “that was then, this is now,” “tex,” and “rumble fish” was a woman and used her initials to disguise her sex, i thought it was brilliant because even as a kid i merely assumed that because the narrator was a young boy, the author then, of course, must be a man. and her little misdirection worked perfectly.

j.d. salinger, my favorite writer when i was in highschool also didn’t want his work tarnished, so he asked his publisher to avoid using pictures, illustrations or fancy graphics on the covers of his book. this is why when we think of “Catcher in the Rye” we usually recollect the classic maroon cover with gold lettering, even though the first editions had an illustration which salinger objected to vehemently. as he became more successful, his wishes were allowed to become reality.

when aol first came out and brought irc chat to the mainstream, hundreds of thousands of people were once again simply being judged by their words. i was shocked at how well received i was because i could write decently. i didn’t have a picture in my profile, i didn’t have any personal information on there. if anyone asked me what i looked like, i borrowed a phrase from mr. kfi and said, “better than some, not as good as others.”

i also saw how i was making my inevitable “judgements” of people simply by their points of view and how they wrote them.

if some ass wrote “u r f##ing stoopid” it wouldn’t matter to me how cool their car was, or the similar interests that they had to me, or if they were a super hot chick in her thong at miami beach working on her deep dark tropic tan.

blogs have now entered into a similar situation. people like a.beam and (when he was anoynomous) the rallying point are my favorite examples since no one knows who “he” is and “he” is simply judged by his words, as sparse as theve been recently, but we like “him” not because of his pictures or position in society, but because of his thoughts. it’s perfect.

so saturday night meesh calls me up. shes in town. we’ve chatted a little bit before that. exchanged photos because i never expected to ever meet her. exchanged phone numbers. and then she betrayed my trust by calling me and saying she was in town and wanted to meet me at the coolest hollywood hotspot on santa monica blvd.

meesh, my friends, turns out, is one of the top five beautiful women ive ever met in my life. her pictures do her no justice what so ever.

tall, dark, not a blemish on her gorgeous face, lovely, happy, sultry, womanly, slender, exotic, fashionable, girlie, fun.

sitting on her left was a young black woman who works at a huge hollywood agency that represents all the biggest actors, directors, writers, producers. she was awesome and looked hot in her blue velvet bustier. sitting on her right was a super cool blonde who i’d discover was born on my exact birthday, her name is simone.

apparently sweet babes are allowed to stay at bars after the 2am deadline. and because i was surrounded with hotness i got to enjoy the benefits and when the bouncer turned on the lights all that was left at the club were the most amazing chicks and a few lucky fellas. it was like what 49ers hoped for after they sifted through the sand and debris while looking for gold.

nuggets of shiny gorgeousness were everywhere.

the only riff raff was me.

we had one more round and me and meesh jetted over to my house to grab some coronas and a bottle of absolut. we then went over to simone’s luxurious apartment right off of wilshire, wonderfully decorated and filled with awesome art, rare oriental carpets, incense, all the things you’d expect from a libra scorpio young woman with taste and enough means to bring it to reality.

the four of us partied till 6am listening to cuban mixes, millie jackson, and rufus wainwright. four air signs, enjoying beauty and peace and love and incredible music. everything was mellow and happy and balanced and nice and free.

yes, i am the luckiest man in the world.

yes, all the ladies seemed to like me, mostly cuz i kept my big mouth shut and let them entertain me with their beautiful stories and fabulous spirits.

but no, i will probably never chat with my pal meesh again, she’s way too hot and now im super intimidated.

today: is os‘s birthday.

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