LOS ANGELES -- I sat on the fine-as-silk, soft-as-a-cushion California sand, watching the waves roll up along a beautiful stretch of Santa Monica coastline. Suddenly the cell phone rang. ''You're on the list,'' said the voice on the other end.
It was a perfect LA moment: I was on an approved invite list to one of the convention week's most sought-after private parties, held at the Pacific Palisades home of a famous Hollywood star. Then, as it too often turns out, there was a downside to the good news: This party of some 500 people was considered ''off the record.'' The next day, my benefactor told me I agreed to that arrangement when I took the invitation and that I misinterpreted a later conversation about the ground rules.
So, being an honorable woman, I will not tell you whose fabulous backyard I stood in, under a full moon so beautiful it made the entire tableau look like the most perfect of movie sets, what legendary political clan circulated graciously on the lush, springy lawn with guests who included a bevy of media stars, or what network correspondent introduced the US senator, who sang an offkey duet in Spanish with a Clinton administration Cabinet secretary, accompanied by a spirited Mariachi band.
But according to the Boston Herald, a party for Senator Ted Kennedy and his niece Caroline was held on Tuesday night at the home of Maria Shriver and her husband Arnold Schwarzenegger.
And now I will tell you what I learned from the experience. That was not off the record and was much more important than the event itself.
Being there was far too seductive. Walking the line between working press and elite party-goer was just too hard to do. I went, I saw, and I wanted to write. At the same time, I went, I drank wine, and I wanted to be an insider.
During this week in Los Angeles and earlier this month in Philadelphia, the media whined a lot about too little news and too much spin. As a drop-in to the national political scene, I would offer this perspective.
I have met the enemy, and it is us.
We are the ones being schmoozed and entertained, then spun and positioned. We are the ones who make our deals with the devil, gaining access that makes us feel important, on the grounds that we will not tell anyone else what we saw or heard.
These deals have consequences. Using off-the-record is rationalized as a way of getting at the truth, and like all journalists I use the device. But, really, what good is the truth if only an elite group gets to hear it on the promise they will not reveal it to the consumers who buy their work?
Never mind the absurdity of an off-the-record party for 500. Revealing or not revealing the location of the swimming pool or the sushi really doesn't mean that much to anyone. But, off-the-record this week, there are also straight-from-the-gut, candid assessments of the mixed messages coming from this Democratic convention and the tough road ahead for the Gore-Lieberman ticket. On the record, all is blandness and light.
Maybe that is the true reason real people aren't reading newspapers or watching television news as much as we and our owners want them to. Maybe it's not that they are too busy or too stupid to digest politics as it is dished up by the media. Maybe they know what we know - that the truth is very often a secret shared by a clique of thousands of journalists and politicians; but too often it is not in the newspaper they buy or on the television screen they watch. Knowing that, why not watch ''Survivor'' or ''Who Wants to be a Millionaire?'' At least what you see there is what you get.
Much is written these days about the intersection of business and politics and how it drives the American electoral process. Too often, the press leaves itself out of the equation, reporting on the dynamic as if we are just observers rather than participants in a very complicated dance.
Well, this dance partner is going home to think about it.
In the meantime - as the musclebound host of my very last off-the-record party would say, ''Hasta la vista, baby.''
Joan Vennochi is a Globe columnist.
