Solometo, Staring at the Corn Nuts

I got about 20 minutes to talk today. Hold on, let me pull the car over. I’m on my break.

Another thing about Solometo, He told us about one time he’d been in the desert. He stopped for gas at the Am/Pm. Somewhere outside of Reno. Said he’d taken some peyote, a small dose with his friend, Belinda. Whenever he mentioned any drug, he’d put his forefinger up to his lips and say “Shh…” to indicate that this information was to be kept private. He mentioned dropping acid a couple times. Mostly, I think he drank mescal and smoked weed. You ever tried mescal? Smokey and thick. Like tequila that’s been scorched.

Anyway, about that gas station mini-mart. He told us about staring at the Corn Nuts hanging there on a hook, all dusty in the fluorescent opulence. He said he’d had a vision, staring at those Corn Nuts. The longer he stared at them, the further back into the history of the corn he went. Traveled through time and space, seeing deep into the dirt, the planting and harvesting of the wild teosinte seeds in Mexico. Said it felt like thousands of years ago. Then later in the journey, how corn had shaped the land. Solometo said it was like some sort of whiplash time-lapse, standing among the stalks swaying in the clear blue. Then the machines. The endless whirring noises. The mass production of corn in the Midwest in the 1940s and 50s. Said he could tell because suddenly highways and classic cars were surrounding the fields.

Solometo’s trip came to a halt in a dialysis clinic, where insulin was being pumped into thousands of obese middle-aged people, their kidneys failing. Glucose levels too high, their blood ruined by all that corn syrup while they sat there reading People magazine. I’m not sure about everyone else in class that day, but I’d bet most of us ended up consuming a lot less soda and manufactured foods, dosed with corn syrup, less than others growing up in southern Ohio back then.

Solometo developed a circle of trust among the teenagers. He was unlike any other adult at the high school. It wouldn’t be possible today, not with the fear of sexual predators. He wasn’t sexual with anyone, far as I know, but he just didn’t give a shit about the expected behavior, didn’t care about those boundaries.

When you’re 16, the idea of becoming an adult is confusing and beguiling. Though he was nearly 40, he came off like a wise uncle, not like any of our parents. While he was sobering and unflinching about the life that awaited us, he was also hallucinatory, as he told his stories. A rare person. You just had that sense that he’d been around for a long time. What is it they call that type? An old soul. He was one of those old souls.

I’ve gotta get back to work. My break ends in 10 minutes. You got any other questions about Solometo?

He never instructed me to do anything for him. Never let me in on any grand plan. Had no fucking clue he was involved with anything illicit.

Never drove anything anywhere for him. Never spoke directly to him after high school. Like I said, it was kind of shocking to get the postcard from him all those years later. Pretty sure Solometo left Athens the year after I graduated in ‘84, so I guess that would’ve been ‘85 that he left.

You need to talk to Luke. Down in Phoenix, Luke sat with Solometo for a good half hour. That’s what he said anyway. That time at the circus. Alright, gotta go. Call me if you need anything.