When I had lunch with Charles today I learned that he's also keeping a notebook. He said he was editing it to focus on what might be perceived as the more unusual aspects of his life. "Like what?" I asked.
"Let's see," he said glancing at a pad of paper, "Someone canceled a shoot because they'd had too many drugs, a young woman called and asked if I'd asked if I'd photograph her even though she only had a dozen tattoos and sixteen piercings, a young stripper friend died from an overdose --and it wasn't accidental, a friend is using her company's office equipment to publish a journal for underwear fetishists ... that sort of thing."
He said he was omitting anything that didn't fit the theme, such as helping a friend get a show, having a spiritual insight, et cetera. As a result he sometimes has to condense two days in to one in order to make things interesting enough.
We went back to his apartment and looked at photographs of people doing things with blood. I didn't ask what they were up to; I'll wait for his new book to be published to find out.
Charles had a magazine page on attached to his refrigerator door with strawberry-shaped magnets. The page was filled with a romantic black and white photograph of a mist-shrouded coast with "Let the beauty we love be what we do.--Rumi" written underneath. I doubt you'll read that when he publishes his notebook, so I guess it's OK to mention it here.
