Yeh, I know; that's a picture of Frank Zappa. Thing is, I don't have any pictures of Dave, so I'm closely approximating again. Picture Zappa with black wire-frames, without the soul patch, and playing a bass instead of a guitar, and you've got Dave.
I've known him nearly forty years, met him through Micheal, just after I got kicked out of school-as you'd expect, it was about the music and, to be honest, the recreational herbs. We've been through a lot of long, strange trip together, gigs, camping, trouble, marriage, death, and more laughs than anyone has a right to...Dave's one of the few people who can make me laugh, whether I want to or not.
We still keep in touch-in fact I got a letter from him day before yesterday.Dave hates computers, won't use one, ain't even studyin' 'bout owning one, and he keeps his Trac-Fone at about a two minute balance, so they can call him in on Saturdays, if needed. I text him every once in a while.
What the heck...I need the penmanship practice, anyhow.
Dave died on the third of this month, from terminal lung cancer; I'm sitting in a Cleveland motel after doing his eulogy today.
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