Over the last few days I had a break through and figured out how to create my own cover for my future self-published book of essays on a certain horror series. Since then I’ve been formatting the interior and coming up with designs and spent at least fifteen solid hours on this stuff. Needless to say my brain had been centered on image lately.

Tonight I went to the Canoe, an upscale restaurant in Meredith, NH. Food was amazing, as was the service. The waitress not only looked like a girl from my alma mater, but had the same name. I asked her if she was the person I was thinking of, but she was not. Just as well. As I was on this track of image, I noticed that this wonderful restaurant served food on the Spartan white plates I hate and the food looked and tasted awesome, but the waitress brought out this delicious bread for the table in a brown paper bag. It was like we were hobos who’d given up alcohol for yeast.

There’s something to be said, some connection to be made, about a four star restaurant with three star prices giving customers food in a bag, but for the life of me I can’t verbalize it. So I’m going to go back to doing what I did before I left for the restaurant: agonize for an hour over whether or not my dedication should be on the same page as the copyright info.


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