Author Dossier #2: Tim Jones-Yelvington

No. 2 in the Artifice Author Dossiers!

Tim Jones-Yelvington’s piece “My Mother’s Funeral” can be found in Artifice Issue 1

 

Name: Tim Jones-Yelvington

Code-Name: Gutter Princess Glitter Punk

Alias: Noah Vale

Secret Identity: mild-mannered faggot rockstar

Team Colors: CMYK

Reaction That One Time That He Thought There Was Someone Right Behind Him, But There Wasn’t: Who is to say there wasn’t someone right behind me? And from what position of authority comes this declaration? Someones are not always corporeal, nor are they always ones. Sometimes, they are things. Something in the aether, perhaps, a tickle. My reaction? I ran. I am the sort of person who as often runs toward things as runs away. Philosophically, “the journey” resonates, but in reality, I grow weary with in-betweens. At times, I eschew connective tissue. For instance, when I’m really fucking tired of the block between the bus stop and my office, I run, the quicker to get to work. The quicker to reach that position where someone is indeed “right behind me,” when I will turn, and we will touch. I hope to be unafraid.

Favorite Reptile: When I was a child, Pluto was a planet. So too was the pterodactyl a reptile, and so remains my favorite. Now they call her a bird. Science as knowledge is contingent, cumulative, frequently contested, yet enters our culture as authoritative. Who decides this? Is it solely the media that reduces? For instance: Evolution is contextual, not progressive, but try telling that to the host of a television science fiction series who imagine evolution a straight line between then, now and omnipotence. Remember when Deanna Troi became an amphibian in the bathtub? Once, as a kindergartner, I watched a pterodactyl cross the night sky. We were in the car, my mother was driving us home from work and school. “Mom! Mom!” I called. “Stop the car!” She slammed the brakes, we were nearly in an accident. “It’s a pterodactyl!” She opened the door. Mercifully, she was entertained to see an airplane. On the subject of superpowers, I have invariably elected flight over invisibility, the arguments in favor of invisibility far too rational to sway me.

Summation of Aesthetic Philosophy: See above. Then see below.

Celebrity for Whom He’s Most Often Mistaken: Regarding one celebrity to whom friends have often compared me, I’ve sworn myself to secrecy, having vowed to seduce this celebrity on the page, through the mechanism of fiction. I wouldn’t want to open myself to accusations of autoerotic projection. Still curious? I will give you a hint. He is a favorite of Artifice.

Three Things He’s Pretty Sure He Believes, But Maybe Not 100% Sure: Okra is gross. Meat isn’t always murder, but the meat industry, like the agricultural industry (Mansanto knows where you sleep!), terrifies me. Kevin Spacey is a homosexual misogynist douchebag, and I will never forgive him for not responding to my Twitter requests he spank me, but instead blocking me from following his tweets.

Favorite Kind of Story: I can only name traits: Startlingly honest. Unreliable. Formally innovative. Ethically challenging. Socially relevant, but not in the manner one expects.

Least Favorite Kind of Story: Anything by Charles D’Ambrosio.

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