It has become clear that I will be auditioning for American Idol, & that I will be accepted—not because I’m a man who can sing; because I’m a man who must. After the initial audition Katy Perry will take with great reverence my hand in hers & say something about desire being like a teleporting whale. The song I sing will be of my own composition, the only song I will ever compose, & I will sing it in each round. The song will be about going away, & will include references to a specific insect eaten by a more beautiful insect. Katy Perry will weep each time, though I perform the song in a detached manner, as though singing to someone standing on my grave. Lionel Richie will shake his head & say, It’s different every time you sing it, it it really just those three notes? Luke Bryan will stare in great befuddlement & say, I heard trumpets. Were there trumpets? & I will say, No, Luke Bryan, there were no trumpets. I sang without accompaniment, just as I have this entire competition, just as I must sing through my life.

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