Reflection and memory can seem so crystal clear after a death, so strong that there just isn't any doubt about the myriad tiny details that arise. Everything seems present for examination, and yet our tendency is to laud the dead; to raise them higher even than they may have been in life.
Cleaning out an old notebook, I came across a scrap of paper covered in my cramped and hasty handwriting. Haven't found the source yet, so this is a translation of my scrawl. I can't recall the circumstances, but I heard a poem or a lyric, and was compelled to write it down. Probably, in 1999, since it's on the back of a wine tasting menu from River City Cellars - 9/3/99
Simon d'Oro
Here in DogTown, we tend to hang on to older technology for quite awhile, and occasionally things which once seemed useless become functional again.
With a little modification. Sometimes a lot of modification.
I give you, the Macnavox: