from The Incarnation Series [Em’s Notebook], c. 2000

The Poet’s refrigerator: O sensuous Eremite! Small, under the counter, as in a European kitchen. Or a dorm. Package of Swedish flatbread. Five flat sheets of Maine salmon, one ripped open and obviously gnawed. Strong smell of the sea. Plastic pitcher of iced coffee or some other brown liquid. Carton of Heavy Cream (forcible stench of blue mold). Two bottles left in a damp cardboard six pack of Pilsner Urquel. Pie slice of brie. Also gnawed—teeth marks (remember teethmarks) (does he own a fork and knife? does he eat standing up?). Three green apples. Bottle of Aloe Vera juice, crusted at the screwcap. Old lettuce leaves decoupaged to the floor sill, just under the closed produce bin, cloudy with obscure reddish vegetable matter (beet tops?). In the freezer, a frosty half gallon of gin and a package of frozen peas (used, apparently, to ice down sprains).

Sprains from . . . our Vine & Trellis sutra???).

New idea: Focus on restaurants/bars, all within a one-mile radius of the campus:

The Angus Corral

Pig Heaven BBQ

L’Escargot

The Derry Aire

→The way the “personal” might complicate the project in the wrong way. Explore the disconnect between “health codes” / storefront and “reality” What do you show to the public and what is the truth (the dark and lonely offices of the trash bin)? The ferocity of limits, of obstruction. The surprise of it (I’m here to photograph your excavated soul!) too violent maybe for friends? (for me?) (protecting T.). Leave friends / The Poet out of it. These photographs will become the matrix/seedbed for the prints, which will show me, as I always hope, the questions I need to ask.