Falling...

Musing on the chill. Last chill was in Scotland, really. Fall has dropped. The mushroom eaters of the Northern Forest are out in force. I sold three pounds of wild matsutakes to the local broker, a very professional Sugarloafer who rocked out hard to some Ronny James Dio one day long ago, is my guess. I liked him. He immediately squeezed the stems of my truffles, testing, I learned, for worm holes. The restaurants don't want worm holes, 2 lbs get thrown back off the scale into my box. More for me. They are truly an incredible flavor, described as smelling of old socks and cinnamon.

Algebra on the mind last night, this morning, working with a tutor to really nail the concepts at SMCC. Through a haze of beautiful scholars of many nationalities, I wound to a desk, where I was delivered into the mental spa of South Portland. The morphogenetic field of eager intelligence in the SSMCC's learning assistance center was intoxicating, as was the lilt of intelligent male and female tongues flitting on all fronts, Eastern Bloc, West African, North African, German, Latino, Haitian. The algebra fairly poured from my pen in such a jello shot of seductive cranial capacity. I twitched, I hummed, I throbbed, I even snacked on some PB&J I brought, discreetly.

I'm ambitious these days. No time for fooling about. I have a clear vision of what must be done, what we must all do. We must work hard. Focus. Do what is right with what we have. Prepare ourselves to sacrifice everything. No effort here to proselytize, just a good humored observation from a priveleged white indigenetarian who's willing to throw his back into joining women and mothers and girls and boys and Dads and Men to change this world. No time for fooling about. We did that from the 40's to the early ought's, and the coming generations will pay. The labor time for birthing the Ecozoic Age will be quick, we're hoping, but ....