Off the Record

Things I learned about myself today: FIRST There is a 1975 movie entitled "Sarah T: Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic." SECOND A friend of mine spied someone at the airport whose boarding pass read, Sarah Trucksis.THIRD There is another one of me: http://www.westshorepub.com/bellairereview/default.php?action=getArticle&article_id=2418

My pants are quite loose. Does that mean....NO, can't be! Have I, ugh, LOST WEIGHT?! I think Sarah has made the jump to a size 6. I like Banana Republic, Gap, H&M and Zara. Thanks.

For the full day I was alone, I considered my life brutal and absent of all things meaningful. Then I found the Brits. The wonderful Brits from just down the coast who buy me dinner and tell me funny stories and hate white chocolate. They walk my dogs and eat my food and smoke lots of cigarettes. And, to me, this makes them all the more lovable and welcome in the Casa de Sarah. Now for a dip. Tootles.

While walking the dogs just now, I ran across a candy wrapper. On the front was a picture of a chocolate-covered donut-esque thing. The name of this decadence: FILIPINOS.

They Have Murder She Wrote on TV here. Those are the kinds of things I discover when the family is out and I'm sitting around in my Scooby Doo boxer shorts drinking iced coffee from a mug that says, "I love chocolate more than you." Whoa, Shrek 2!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/45317614@N00/

From my balcony I can't tell where the sea begins or ends. At night you just see the village below, then blackness from the skyline to the horizon opposite. What looked to me like a floating city turned out to be a cruise ship sailing on the Mediterranean. A half hour later I could still see the intermittent lights heading northward. The graffiti on the wall near Sant Jaume read, "Bon Nadal" and "Puta Espanya." I'm assuming both are written in Catalan, the former praising the country's young tennis star and the latter saying, well, EXPRESSING some sort of distaste for the country. Children ran around on the playground next to the futbol court, each one beautiful and Spanish. Blue eyes with dark skin and dark hair, green eyes with blond hair and olive skin, very dark eyes with dark hair and tanned skin. I was tempted to grab one by the arm and just snap a picture the moment they met my gaze. The dirt on her cheek, the popsicle remains on his mouth, the gel in his hair, the lunch on her shirt, the torn hem on her skirt, the scrape on her knee, the extra fold in his sock, the undone lace on her shoe. The jazz playing in the village below faded in and out with the breeze. It sounded like the jazz you'd hear only in Italy while passing a wedding reception in the cloister of an old monastery in Tuscany. The attendees drank red wine and water with gas, wrapped their scarves tighter around their neck as the night progressed and gently swayed with their eyes closed when their favorite sax solo came. The bug that landed on my shirt between my breasts whispered something to me I couldn't quite hear when I pulled him close to my ear. Could have been warning me about a coming storm. Or a handsome man. Maybe he was muttering something about the pimple on my chin. Or perhaps he said that it's better to blush from a compliment than from embarrassment. What he actually said was, "I feel crowded by you, clammed up when I land on you, claustrophobic when I think of you and short of breath when I see you. Please shoo me away if I land on you again. Just until I can figure this out. Then I won't flitter and flutter and go back and forth and touch you only sometimes. Let me go. But only for now." I agreed with a nod and smile and tear on my cheek.

Please answer back by clicking Comment below. Question: Is falling for someone simply based on their photographic skills completely shallow and arbitrary?

I'm sure everyone has flashes of brilliance from time to time. They become inspired to write a spectacular novel, to build an elaborate dollhouse, to skateboard around the state or tell someone exactly how they feel so as to clear up any confusion. Most brilliant ideas turn out to be exceedingly brilliant while others lose their appeal after a short while. Would I regret building a 12-story palace for my Barbie? Probably not. Would composing a literary masterpiece be good for me? Probably so. But is unveiling your innermost thoughts on a whim the smartest idea? I think I'll ponder that as I skateboard across Spain.

August issue of St. Louis Magazine should be out on the stands. I think I have a few things in there. I think. A main feature on bars (tough, tough research; sorry for those of you who were dragged along or experienced any bouts of alcoholism) and...something on a gameshow, Deal or No Deal. Might not even have a byline, who knows. AND perhaps a write up on Roxane in Clayton. If anyone DOES know more than I, please notify me. Thanks.