Getting mighty nostalgic in my old age.

I've been looking through a box of notes, letters, drawings and pictures. I had to stop. My heart is breaking.
I miss so many people. Some are still living, but others are long gone.
We used to be young. We worked at a stupid steak house, but we had a blast. We made our own fun. I hope that kids are doing that right now, while they're burning the fries somewhere.
Some of the notes were serious. Feelings, etc. Most of them, however, were just silly. I pulled one of them out. I had written on a scrap of steak house paper the following (for some reason):

I'm through preaching to the unconverted. I fellowship with the believers.
Brian Eno was the straw (under baby) that broke (needles in) the camel's (eye) back.

I think if I could snap my fingers and do it again, I would.