indeed notdead

As I sit in front of the electric glow of this LCD screen I can’t help but feel Thomsponesque
Think fear and loathing, whisky in hand as the youngbloods paint the aural canvas of days passed and days passing
A post on facebook reminded me of a time long ago
Used archive’s machine and stumbled upon an old writing of mine when baud and dial tones opened the doors to a commune of information and ideas
Embarrassed at first of how naive my words seemed
But then again, they rang strangely true
Thoughts of my personal journey with this technological wonder and it’s humble beginnings and how the my own remnants still remain available to be tripped over and examined
I then looked around my physical surroundings and find many more artifacts that can be touched, felt, listened to
Feelings of growth and production are quickly turned to complacency
Those words of a child written a mere two miles away
Canon, they are and oddly prophetic scribed by a mind that had no foresight into what oddly self-fulfilled
Trite, redundancy… nay.
I find comfort in them for remarkably
It has all worked out.

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