Everyone You Meet is Fighting a Hard Battle

Jack says, “I wish my image was specific, that there were sets of clothes I wore on weekends, that if photos were taken of me I would look consistent and you could expect certain things about me.”

He’s been looking at the Barton Hollow inlay, wondering if we’ve the sorts of voices which fit unexpectedly, if we should be cultivating our images presciently, if there’s hope for us being self-made successes together or separately.

“You could make a choice now,” I tell him, “to always wear a tie or bow tie, to never be pictured without suit jackets or smart shoes. And there’s coming up with a band name based on Plato or a philosopher you think that we stand for.”

But we did this in school. Made a list in history lessons of what to call our band when we had one, or if. And the best that we came up with? Overeaters Anonymous.

“Maybe this starts with Philosophy Book Club?” I ask, knowing it should start with an accident.

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