the_autodidact kerry i remember the first time i saw you. i was newly 21 and still having first after first after first, and i had never waited tables before. you were in the kitchen by the oven, tossing pizza dough in a t-shirt and a dirty ball cap. you reminded me of someone i had recently loved. it hadn’t worked out and i was still covered in scars, still reeling. i forgot how to speak, could only spit awkward phrases, convinced you were laughing at me so i looked away after a party we stood in your kitchen, bare cabinets except potato chips and poptarts, back door window still shattered and covered by cardboard, and you told me how you’d had this off-and-on thing with her and it was just never good timing… i was listening, a friend, and wondering how long it would be until you forgot her. you were still living in that house where i spotted a journal on the front porch–leatherbound, with a little string tie–and i assumed it was yours but didn’t ask you about it until years later. “oh yeah that thing,” you said. the second time we spoke was at your house. he was giving me a tour and we were going out for the first time and you appeared in your bedroom door. you were wearing a kinks shirt and slouching against the door frame, arms crossed. “so what are you two up to?” you said. we were going to manuel’s to get drinks, but i let him answer for me. i was wishing i was going out with you instead. ”have fun,” you said, smirking. irony in your voice. i did go to manuel’s with you but not until much later 211211 ... kerry the more i come to know you the more difficult it is to write about you, like you’re a secret i must keep to myself. when no one else was around and we watched a movie together i felt like i was sixteen, aware of every breath and every movement, hoping if i was quiet enough maybe i could hear your thoughts. you said later that you packed me up in a little box and put me aside, because of him. how restrained you are! do you remember how much ice-cream we ate? driving around town in your buick lesabre with the dark red leather bench seats? do you remember the rabbit who ate the strawberries in your garden, and how i put up tin foil to keep it out and it didn’t work? and the pumpkins didn’t take and neither did the watermelons, but you had enough peppers for that chili contest in cabbagetown (the chili you two made came in last place, but that wasn’t the point). what would i do without you? you could disappear anytime; probably not, but i’ve seen it happen before and surely some part of me might disappear too. could i eat? could i sleep? would i stay here, or pack a few things and go searching, again? 211211 ... unhinged in the past year i have read thousands of pages on mycology, mushrooms. the more i read the more questions reveal themselves to me. fungi literally hold this planet together and have the keys to fixing what we are destroying. even as they make the enzymes that break our world back down into it's smallest parts. circles in circles in circles 211212 ... nr i've heard Fantastic Fungi is great 211212 ... unhinged i read the book before i saw the movie and had already watched some youtube vids of paul waxing prophetic about fungi but yeah the images in the movie are incredible. my own fungi photo habits have revealed the third kingdom to me in a whole new way 211212 what's it to you? who go blather from