Chapters (106)
- Cover
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- A FEW MONTHS EARLIER
- ART SAID
- I WALK
- THEY SAY
- IN THE WINGS
- THEY SAY
- I POST
- THEY SAY
- A WOMB OF ONE’S OWN
- THERAPY SESSION #1(DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE)
- LIKE OF DUTY
- PICTURE THE SCENE
- I SAID
- THE PATATAS BRAVAS
- KELLY HAD SAID
- SOBER SEXTS
- ABLUTIONS
- MY BATHROOM SAID
- TIPPING POINT
- MY MOTHER SAID
- I WAS EIGHTEEN
- ART SAID
- SOMEONE SAYS
- A REALLY BAD SIGN
- MIA SAYS
- I WALK
- KNOCKKNOCK
- ONE-LINERS
- I SAY
- THE OUTRAGE
- BABY ELEPHANT
- ART SAID
- MY MOTHER SAYS
- HOW I MET KELLY
- ART SAID
- ART SAID
- WHAT LASTS?
- BAD STAND-UP
- GHOSTESS WITH THE MOSTEST
- I WOKE UP LIKE THIS
- THE MIND CREATES THE ABYSS
- I ADORED
- ART SAID
- YOU
- TERMS OF ENDEARMENT
- IF
- ART’S MOTHER SAID
- FULL DESPERATE
- MISERABLE PHO
- BREATHING FOR ONE
- POPULAR PROBLEMS
- ON THE BUS
- TABS
- GRANMA SAID
- ALL MY CIRCUS, ALL MY MONKEYS
- BURNOUT
- THERAPY SESSION #2
- IN
- APP IDEA
- LOOK NO HANDS
- HI HI HI
- BACK AT HOME
- EXHIBITS A AND B
- GOOD FAMOUS PEOPLE
- MY MOTHER
- STILL
- LIFE
- WE’D GONE
- ‘FUNNY’
- OUTGROWN
- ART SAID
- BODIES OF WORK
- KELLY SAID
- FAKE NEWS
- GOOGLE ME
- SOCIAL CATERPILLAR
- REALLY THO
- DEALS WITH STRANGERS
- NEWS ITEM
- NICOLETTE SAYS
- HALF AN HOUR LATER
- ASS FIZZ
- THAT NIGHT
- IT HAPPENED TO HAPPEN
- #FROTHEH
- MY MOTHER SAYS
- THE HEART CROSSES IT
- MANCHILD
- WHO YA GONNA CALL
- NAKED AMBITION
- SOHO SQUARE
- CHIEF EMOTIONS
- SHE SAYS
- KELLY SAYS
- GENUINE QUESTION
- LIFE DRAWING
- RELAX
- WE LIE
- SILENT-ISH NIGHT
- THANKS
- About the Author
- ALSO BY EMMA JANE UNSWORTH
- About the Publisher
I stare at my phone. I am happy enough with the photo. I have applied the Clarendon filter to accentuate the photo’s ridges and depths, making the light bits lighter and the darker bits darker. I added a white frame for art. The picture looks – as much as pastry can – transcendental. However, the text is proving troublesome. I’ve tweaked it so many times that I can’t work out whether it makes sense any more. This often happens. I ponder the words so long, thinking how they might be received, wondering if they could be better, that they lose all their original momentum. I get stage fright. The rest of the world has fallen away around this small square of existence. It’s like that bit in Alien 3 where Ripley says to the alien: You’ve been in my life so long, I can’t remember anything else. I used to think it was about motherhood. Now I know it’s about social media.
I stare at the screen.
PASTRIES, WOO! #PASTRIES
Is this the absolute best depiction of my present experience?
I cross out the WOO, and the comma.
PASTRIES! #PASTRIES
I stare at it again. I try and recall the original inspiration; to be guided by that. It’s the least I can do. I interrogate myself. That’s what the mid-thirties should be about, after all: constant self-interrogation. Acquiring the courage to change what you can, and the therapist to accept what you can’t. What is it I really want to say about pastries? How do pastries truly make me feel? Why is it important right now that I share this?
I delete the exclamation mark and stare at the remaining two words. They are the same word. The only difference is that one is hashtagged. Do they mean the same, or something different? Is there added value in the repetition? Is it worth leaving one un-hashtagged, so that the original sentiment exists, unfettered by digital accoutrements? It’s so important to get all this right. I want people to know instantly, at a glance, that this post is about pastries in their purest form. This is Platonic Pastry.
I delete the hashtag so that the post simply says:
PASTRIES.