LIT DIVA EXTRAORDINAIRE

Yo I’m a lit diva extraordinaire

And how I’m selling out my chapbooks

You say it ain’t fair

My shit is so tight

They ain’t no limit

Just like my ass

You wanna rim it?

TJY is an event horizon. TJY traps light. Paparazzi photographed TJY wearing a black veil. Paparazzi found TJY in a cemetery, under cover of darkness. They found him perched beside an unmarked grave. They found him sucking one of those super skinny cigarettes.

TJY shed a single, sequined tear.

A reporter asked him, “Who are you mourning?”

He answered, “After the death of the author comes the rise of the LITERARY DIVA EXTRAORDINAIRE.”

Which rise is chronicled in TJY’s new TEXT. Which TEXT cannot be bought in stores, for it must be FOUND. Which text TJY has launched a nationwide, seventeen city tour to promote.

TJY appeared on The Late Show with David Letterman, where Dave hung him over a tank of water and asked the audience, WILL HE FLOAT? TJY sat on Craig Ferguson’s couch while Craig joked he gave TJY fellatio in the backroom of a leather bar. On The View, Elizabeth Hasselback said, I think the tea party makes some arguments worth considering, and TJY said, I teabagged your husband last night. TJY taught Ellen how to walk in heels. On the TODAY Show, TJY showed Hoda and Kathie Lee 9 simple ways to glue sequins to their face, just in time for the holiday season.

Each of them asked:

[WHAT ARE YOU?]

I am a total effect body wash. I am the dude that hubbed your bub. I am the seventh sign of an unhealthy scalp. I am the diarrhea you trailed in those wicked woods. I am the Aeron chair you rode down the stairs with a jubilant clamor.

[WHAT ARE YOU?]

I am tense, technological, embodied. I am the sugar train that left your station but came back later with a toot toot toot. I am a facsimile of an etching inspired by a photograph of God.

[WHAT ARE YOU?]

I am timeless scat. I am one-eyed, kohl-eyed, snaked. I’m the sticky on your gut. I am frenzied, gutted clutter. I am actor Chad Michael Murray’s enormous aureoles, and also the man who licked them. I am tight kicks, electric hand claps, an electric bass riff. I am the editor of the esteemed collection, “Very Short Stories Where Bad Things Happen to Babies.”

[WHAT ARE YOU?]

I am the glass shield that sits above the food on a buffet line. I am an overpriced decorative sock. I am prevalent use of groove. I’m the earworm hook from that song you wrote about my ladyparts. I’m a heave, I’m a shudder, I’m a ho. I am the most charismatic British gym queen you ever touched.

[WHAT ARE YOU?]

I am the composer and lyricist of the soon-to-be hit single SEXT ME, a spirited dance pop response to the Brett Favre sexting scandal that signals my emergence as a !!!MULTI-PLATFORM MEDIA PHENOMENON!!!

So we are out of the closet but into what? What new unbounded spatiality?

Sexting sexting 1, 2, 3

This one goes out to all the boys wanna get with me

I’mma text you a pic of whatchu wanna see

I’mma show you my coo-coo-coochie

You can have that shit for free

Refrain:

Sext me sext me 1, 2, 3

I’mma sext you and you can sext me

Sext me sext me 1, 2, 3

I’mma sext you and you can sext me

(I’mma sext you and you can sext me)

Repeat after me: WHAT NEW UNBOUNDED SPATIALITY?

Come on baby show me what you got

You can even make it a come shot

You’re just my kind of man

What’s a matter dontcha have a data plan?

I can’t hear you!

You can wiggle your dick into your camera phone

You can show me how you’re gonna make me moan

You know what I like

You know what I like

Sext me sext me sext me sext me

…the room the den the attic the basement the house the bar the university some new enclosure who’s door like Kafka’s door produces the expectation of a fresh air and a light of illumination that never arrives…

I’m bringing words

Back to the people

This my literary church

Go on and lick my steeple