A Donut Hole for Your Enjoyment

I mean the actual hole, not a cleverly marketed donut-nugget promising health and wellness by virtue of its diminutive size but in reality simply increasing the number of donuts you’re eating by way of compensation. No indeed, none of that. A hole. As in, you get nothing.

Well perhaps it’d be better to think of this as a placeholder. Like if you plan to fill in the center of the donut later. I do, in fact plan to fill in the center of the donut later. A week later, to be specific. I could just finish typing the damn thing tonight and shoot it at you but I’ve made a fairly large number of highly googlable assertions and would like to spend a little while checking and rechecking to make sure that I don’t say anything stupid—or at least anything stupider than usual—before I release my next burst of words into the world.

So you’re gonna have to just relax. It’ll be ok. Next week.

In the meantime, I have a bit of fun news. One consequence of adopting Pour Brewhouse as my office away from the office is that I am suddenly under a lot of pressure to sell some writing to pay for all the beer. And what do you know? I did. I went up to Augusta with my friend Jim last spring and came back with 1,200 words on Pexcho’s American Dime Museum, which Georgia Backroads will be running, alongside Jim’s photos, in their winter issue. Should keep me in offices supplies (e.g. the aforementioned beer) for at least a month; good for two Red Clay Bestiary pieces and two more to shop around. God willing and the creek don’t rise, I can make this a self-sustaining operation, at least until my liver fails.

Until next week, ta ta!