A 21st Century Love Story
“Disturbing and inspiring, luscious and utterly unique,
A 21st Century Love Story is the magisterial chronicle of two
young people on the brink of self-realization. The raw
innocence of their correspondence is agonizingly persuasive,
divulging a sober and subtle intelligence that is a rare credit
to their generation. . . . With great narrative verve, these
precocious seekers are proving themselves capable of
fundamentally altering the tectonic landscape of the classic
coming-of-age tale. In a daringly hybridized exploration of the
moral, philosophical, and spiritual context for their own lives,
their frequently hilarious and touching dialogue manages to
illuminate and transcend. America loves— no,
needs—Evan and Ella.”
—The New York Cultural Review
Part One
From: “Evan McAllister”
[
glassyzen@yahoo.com]
To: “Ella Paris”
[
ellaparis@hotmail.com]
Date: Wed, 03 Dec 2003 19:45:33 -0800 (PST)
Subject: hello :)
Attachment: evan-wacked3.jpg
dear ella,
how's life in brooklyn? how's your dad doing? man, i don't
know what to say about this whole thing. . .other than that it
sucks of course. i don't mean to sound cold or insensitive, but
i wonder if there's even a possibility that he'll survive this?
he's totally pearled, right? like taken a turn for the worst?
i don't know much about the disease he's suffering from, but it
sounds pretty gnarly. seriously though, really, i hope
everything's okay. my sister's praying for him and stuff.
and me. . .well i'm doing alright, you know. i left santa cruz
last week and reported back in for messenger duty monday
morning. in fact, yesterday i was nearly killed by this yuppie
kook in an suv, who came backing out of his driveway at forty
miles an hour. the moron broke my front wheel! but he paid me
for it, so. . .whatever. and courtney's just won some employee of
the month award for september, so i'm supposed to meet her at
this party tonight, which is way lame. things with courtney and
me haven't been going so great lately.
anyways, i hope you're chillin', that your dad's feeling okay
and all that. . . (btw, i'm attaching a pic of me, for you to
stare at endlessly into the night. :)
later, ecco! ;)
love,
the evanator
p.s. did you ever read that onion article, “dolphins
evolve opposable thumbs”?* you'd totally dig it, babe.
it rules.
From:“Ella Paris”
[
ellaparis@hotmail.com]
To:“Evan McAllister”
[
glassyzen@yahoo.com]
Date: Thu, 04 Dec 2003 12:10:24 -0000 (PST)
Subject: Jerk
Evan,
“Gnarly”?! It's called lymphatic cancer. I'm only
going to say this once, stop emailing me! You are so
“way” immature I can't waste any more time on you.
I'm seeking a restraining order from Yahoo.
Goodbye. . .forever.
E
From: “Evan McAllister”
[
glassyzen@yahoo.com]
To: “Ella Paris”
[
ellaparis@hotmail.com]
Date:Fri, 05 Dec 2003 21:11:37 -0800 (PST)
Subject: Kurt Donald Cobain
Dearest Ella,
I'm sorry. You're right. My whole life has been a lie. I'm
a loser, a phony, an unenlightened asshole forever lost in the
surf of samsara. I guess I already kind of recognized it before
I met you, but after I met you--maybe even the moment I met
you--I thought things could be different. You gave me hope, a
sense of clarity. I felt confidence in myself and in LIFE when
I was around you in a way I never had before. Never. But now
you're gone--and you're making it official, for good, forever.
I half expected this. But Jesus, Ella. . . If I can impart some
parting words to you before I put an end to this incarnation and
leave this realm, it is these:
“God is love; and he that dwells in love, dwells in God, and God in him.”
--1 John, 4:16
Maybe Christians aren't so crazy after all. And maybe I am.
But it doesn't matter anymore. Goodbye, Ella Paris. And
clichéd as it sounds, now's the time to say it: Goodbye
World, Goodbye Samsara.
I'll always love you, Ella. Please tell my parents and
sister I love them deeply, and let them know about this (or
not).
Sincerely,
Your Immature Friend
From:“Ella Paris”
[
ellaparis@hotmail.com]
To: [
glassyzen@yahoo.com]
Date: Sat, 06 Dec 2003 09:48:32 +0000
Subject: Evan Jerk McAllister
Evan,
Grow up and have a little dignity “dude”. It used
to be that if you wanted to die you would do it without fanfare,
away from other people so as not to disturb them. Which is to
say that suicide these days, and the pitifully melodramatic
email you wrote, is completely selfish (even for the likes of
our friend Kurt).
If you were really going to commit suicide you
would have done it immediately, knowing that the effect of me
hearing that you were dead and hadn't written or told me
beforehand, would have been exponentially more painful. And
therefore the equivalent of an emotional 'last word'. As it
stands now you have given me ample time to respond, probably in
the hope that I would cajole you out of it. Wrong. I dare you to do it. For someone who claims to want real Meaning in their life, this is the instant solution to the problem. What I mean is, if you kill yourself you'll really know the meaning of the word “coward”.Besides, why are you always sending me fake suicide notes?
Isn't this number FOUR? Why do you like to joke around about stuff like
this? Huh?
I bet you dream about your funeral and all the people who
would spontaneously arrive, crying for the great loss of You.
Lets talk about something else. . ..
Ella
From: “Evan McAllister”
[
glassyzen@yahoo.com]
To: “Ella Paris”
[
ellaparis@hotmail.com]
Date: Mon, 08 Dec 2003 02:11:23 -0800 (PST)
Subject: all the spaces, the strings
lovely ella, meter maid,
you saved me! you spared me from selfishly self-annihilating
my self! for the fourth time!! how cool is that? i knew i
could count on you. but seriously, folks. . . you ask why i joke
about dying? because i WANT to die! i want to die into the
eternal void, i want to die into the unborn Source of ALL. i
don't dream about my funeral and savor fantasies of long-lost
posers coming to celebrate my departure from this earth. no, i
dream of Life Eternal, beyond the comings and goings of
pathetic, finite forms. our bodies are just skandhic coils of
mortal flesh, doomed to return to the dust whence they sprang.
but who are YOU, really? beyond the body, beyond the mind, who
are YOU?
ella, i really want to help you understand this better,
because i think it will help you A LOT in what you're facing
with your dad and his illness. think about it ella: we're born
into this strange world, we live our lives, going along with
the flow, believing whatever lies we're force-fed by the world,
struggling and suffering along with everyone else, and then one
day our bodies fail, and it's all over as quickly as it began.
and people ask WHY? what is the POINT? well, i know why, and i
know the point--that there is no “point”! it's just
a game (god's game) or a dream, whichever metaphor you prefer.
ella, i'm sorry if i've upset you by joking around so much.
i don't want my happiness to screw with our friendship, okay?
ella, if you really want me to stop, and turn into stodgy
academic mode, then i will just for you. you're so beautiful
ella, so pure--like a radiant bodhisattva of perfection in this
world. your sweet smile, your glossy dark hair, your eyes like
globes of blue earths that form a matrix of endless windows that
anyone can look at but only i can see.
with infinite love,
your own Original Face