Loading ...Hey, Read My Obituary, Will Ya?
By Evan ~ October 18th, 2007. Filed under: writing.
NEW YORK TIMES: OCTOBER 25TH, 2067
Evan LeVine, a devil-may-care writer who went from unemployment in Southern California in the late 2000s to renown as an unemployed writer whose “I Had A Dream Once, I Think” earned him widespread critical acclaim, died Wednesday night of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome while attending an ape fight at the GloboDome in Edendale. He was 84 and lived in Echo Park. Yes, still.
The death was confirmed by his Brita filter, Lenore.
Though known for that testicle-tingling, if not scrotum-crunching narrative style which led to the creation of “A Life Of Customary Things” (2019) and for some dazzling editorial pieces for various collegiate publications, Mr. LeVine was far more famous among ardent music nerds, lousy stay-at-home bloggers, and record collector scum.
“He was a phenomenal writer, an upper-echelon wordsmith, and a major player in the birth of the drama-omedy-histo-horro-sci-mance genre of literature,” said longtime friend Matthew Galanty, chief resident of autodildonics at the Coital Care Center of Intercourse, PA.
Writing is the activity or skill of marking coherent words on paper and composing text. These days the industry has sponsors, douchebags writing about pop-culture trends, editors provided by publishing houses, laptop computers and spiral notebooks. But when Mr. LeVine and his friends first took to the quill and parchment, they used ink comprised of soot, glue and water, wrote heart-rending texts of staggering importance, and did their own editing. Lots of editing.
Mr. LeVine’s brother, Darryl, a former editor at Harper Collins and also a marginally successful writer, said that if his brother failed to bring a reader to orgasm, it was because he pushed his prose past the breaking point. That was evident in one of the most important novels of the ’20s, the travel saga “On The Roam.”
“Evan rewrote it fifty-four times,” Darryl LeVine said. “He wrote the first draft in 2025. Every other year he said it was finished. But then during the summer months, he’d re-imagine it and pitch it as a different story.”
“He was consuming a lot of psilocybin.”
Six times, however, Evan LeVine did win the Pulitzer prize for his contributions to print journalism and literary achievements. It was said he beat out every other nominee so tremendously that he “might as well have drugged, raped, and donkey punched them in the back of an unmarked van as an assertion of his literary dominance.”
In 2036 Mr. LeVine organized the American team for the Intercontinental Eight-Year Trials in Missoula, the Olympics of speed poetry now called the Eight-Year Enduro. The team also included Raymond Damon, his brother and a young man who had come into Mr. LeVine’s “indie” bookstore in Echo Park, asked for writing lessons, and became a friend: William Shakespeare.
The friendship led to that classic “Othello 2: Electric Boogaloo” masterpiece: 10,000 pages in pyrrhic. It was an artistic triumph.
“I finished it on the first pass,” Mr. LeVine told The North American Review in 2042. His fee, $8.00, was “huge money back in those days,” he said.
Asked about the ending, he said, “It sucked!”
Seven times during the 2040s Mr. LeVine participated in the Eight-Year Enduro, writing 200 pages a day. To earn a platinum medallion, competitors had to “write clean” each day, which required them to pass certain page lengths on time; repair their own writing utensils; and be among the top five percent of writers in daily speed tests. Mr. LeVine won five platinum medallions. He also was said to have fornicated “every fucking fine-assed bitch judge on the panel.”
Evan Harris LeVine was born in New Jersey on April 25th, 1983. His father was a lawyer, a real hardworking salt-of-the-earth type. Mr. LeVine barely graduated college. He spent two years in denial after a weird sexual encounter with an overweight Chilean woman named Valentina. Later, when not working on his stunning books, he went whoring. Then the roar of his syphilis turned him honest.
By his early 20s, Mr. LeVine was losing dollar after dollar in Southern California in his shitty one-bedroom apartment overlooking nothing in particular. He won the area’s Biggest Douche award seven times.
“Evan knew the fine line between asshole and douche,” his brother said.
Besides his brother and his daughter Latisha, Mr. LeVine is survived by a sister, Marcus; another daughter, Towanda LeVine-Jamal; and two granddaughters. His wife, the former Velsayre Rigaud, died in 2059.
Before the 2060s when he reopened his bookstore, a showcase for his collection of nearly 20 ancient books, Mr. LeVine worked in porno for ten years. His harrowing roles included two pizza delivery men in the same 2051 film “Jamaican Me Horny.” In another flick, he lays down with two stunning ebony goddesses on top of a skidding eighteen wheeler. This scene resulted in the birth of his youngest daughter. In another scene, he plunges his manhood into the awaiting womb of a paraplegic while driving a Harley Davidson in a 50-minute chase, soaring over the crests of Pittsburgh streets.
Asked by Book News if he ever refused a woman, he said: “Yeah, some of them were too dumb to consider.”
***
Today’s blog entry subject was suggested by reader Mike. If you have an idea for an entry you would like to see me attempt, please feel free to e-mail me your suggestions and I will try my best to do you…what’s the opposite of proud, ashamed? Yeah, that’s the one!
