Oh Dolls,

Hello after a brief sojourn to Europe. But first, can we talk about that hideous picture of me in People Magazine? I am mortified. I mean, I know I can't dress and I remember that day. Since I don't live in New York, I was running all over the place, trying to get things accomplished, knowing I had an opening at 6:30 that night. I went to my friend's house, got dressed and said, "Who cares?" and left the apartment. Oh my God! I'll never do that again. I will never cross the Hudson River bridge without a stylist in my back pocket. Eh J Lo? Really, I mean I feel obsolete in show business. Why would they torture me now? And P.S. my question is have they forgotten what real tits look like? Gravity drip feed praise be to God is all I can say.

On to Europe. So I land in Barcelona, Spain and run into The Artful Dodger, or rather he ran off with my bag. Aaauugh! The trauma, the tears, the poor Spaniards, saying "Tranquila"  "Tranquila", and me screaming anew every time I realized what I had lost. But I'll tell you what. I would much rather have an artful dodger rip me off than a drug crazed, knife toting, gun wielding desperado. I mourn for my brand new red bag. I also think about the young man who I made eye contact with before he so rudely ripped me off. I hope he gave all of my theatrical make-up to his sister and I pray he gave all the money to his poor dear old Mama.Fat effing chance.  

Barcelona is such a beautiful city. The women are so chic and the men so unattractive. But I must say that Spain, in particular Andalusia, is the new Tuscany. It is phenomenally beautiful and so magical and unspoiled and romantic. All the white towns with their Moorish influence. The alcazars and the Alhambra in Granada. There's something to be said about sitting on a beach on the Costa de la Luz and looking at the coast of Africa. My only point of reference as I've said to you before is Hollywood. And, many times I felt as if I was about to see Alladdin and his genie pop out of the bottle. The Muslim influence on the south of Spain is what gives it its allure and magic. I saw a bullfight in Seville. I was at once horrified and addicted. I saw the Gitanos (gypsies) in the Sacramonte District dance the flamenco. It was tourist oriented but I wouldn't know the difference now would I? I went to Garcia Lorca's house and now I must know everything about the Spanish Civil War. He was assassinated the minute the Nationalists took over Granada. There are two things I guess they don't talk about in Spain, the bullfighting and the war. Spain is part of Europe but doesn't feel like it. It is steeped in tradition and culture and color and pageantry and I am in love with it. Check it out as soon as you can because in ten years it will be overrun with people like me, in love with the place.

For Thanksgiving we are taking our son Joshua to Italy. It's also his thirteenth birthday, he's half Italian and it's time he sees it. Keep well, have a lovely fall. I'm going to sleep now. I still have jet lag.

Love, Patti

 

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