Les Deux Magot

I sat working on my tiny little inconsequential book on church life today, sitting at Panera typing away on my laptop and thinking to myself, "My God, this is my suburban Boston equivalent of Ernest Hemingway at Les Deux Magots." It was almost a cripplingly depressing thought and then I remembered that I actually HAVE been to Les Deux Magot, and everyone was really mean and scowly and I was afraid to stay for very long. I think I smoked a cigarette or two and left. Everyone at Panera was very friendly and the coffee was better than in France. So I've decided my life is okay, and I never really did "get" Gertrude Stein anyway.