I’m drawn to contrasts. Between light and dark, the sacred and profane, organic and inorganic. Bright sunlight is transformative, but only when diffused or reflected does it flatter one’s subject. I’m obsessed with light, as I am obsessed with food. In my journal I meticulously describe various meals I’ve enjoyed both here in Europe and in America. Often I’ll make them up, out of whole cloth, with the assistance of Epicurious.com.
I’m drawn to lists. Catalogs. Bibliographies. Summaries. Abstracts. Indexes. Tables of Contents. Captions. Okay, from left: two Vitalis Muesli Crocante, behind which hides a red box of Ritz crackers. One can of Del Monte pineapple, sliced and immersed in a sweet syrup. One can of tuna, with a handy pry-open lid which eliminates the need for a can opener. One plastic bag of basil, picked this morning from a garden on the outskirts of the village. Three potatoes. Which, by the way, I usually turn into french fries. First, I heat up a pan of extra virgin olive oil. Then I slice the potatos into narrow spears which I quickly blanch in boiling salted water. After drying with paper towels, I dump the potatos into the hot oil. A furious, bubbling sizzling! It takes about ten minutes. They are delicious with a sprinkling of salt, and a pool of red ketchup. Anyway, one pear, three apples. The only thing wrong with the apples are those ridiculous stickers. The television is cluttered with endlessly repeated commercials. Ads on billboards, in newspapers and magazines, as well as on internet news sites. And now I have to peel off tiny advertisements from my fruit. What’s the world coming to?
The note is from my massage therapist. Highly personal, so don’t ask.