America, Our Time is Now Over
GDDO Signature Zine, Great British Bakeoff Anthology
I would love to have my shit together but I always burn Sunday morning pancakes halfway through, and I always blame it on the pan. I’m a third of the way through this last novel, the dishes, a doctorate, and only four episodes into the latest season of Great British Bakeoff. Picturing myself in an open tent in 90 degree heat that’s not 90 degrees because it’s of course measured in celsius which is more intelligent and less ruffled, expected to roll puff pastry with chilled/no-longer-chilled butter pouring through my hands. Dealing with the heat while maintaining my cool because we all manage our time well enough to bake and be human and parent and fence while exploring the mating patterns of puffins. Bakers you are a third of the way through is when I’m certain I would break. Melting down entirely with the chocolate, falling apart under the pressure of tiered cakes supported by hollow tubes, crumbling into the mess I present for judgment. Or maybe it would be different. Maybe there’s something to the comfort of seeing Noel and Paul and Prue, listening to their stories while imagining myself in another place and time where things are slower, older, wiser. Somewhere, anywhere… else. And so we sit on our overstuffed couch and dream, shedding the American lies even for an hour, as our cookies transform into biscuits and we wonder. Maybe our flavors aren’t quite right. Maybe we’re not getting it. Maybe, just maybe, the weight of the world measured in kilograms would be a little bit easier to carry.
