Evangela's Rare Moment of Slack

Would the real Evangela please step forward? no more clones. This is the REAL me. Actually I haven't been real for years. Just a person playing a person playing a person. And I mean that seriously. No jokes. I don't mean mental illness or ennui or parody or haha or clever or oh we all feel that way it's probably normal. I'm not real. I'm a secret agent spy. Shut up Baby In my head. Fabulous, pass the martinis. Plesae kill me, hurt in the belly, don't hit me no more, mama, I don't wanna smoke crack anymore, oh sure, it's my fault the water covered Little LaVonne and she ain't moved in weeks. That man, he just my baby daddy, he doesn't hit too hard. I'm serious. Thanks to "Bob" I do/don't exist. And it's fantastic. I hope you feel it too. That was a test, I used to know how to touch type on the keyboard and so the above statement was just a lesson from an old dusty book called "you, TOO, can make music with a typewriter". Cool, I didn't screw up any of the letters. Actually I'm very normal, no kidding. and here is my honest XXXday report. Seriously.

Thankyou so much ALL YOU SHOR DUR PER SAVS. Everyone confused me, turned me on, turned me off just right, liquored me up, held back my hair after, golfed with me, annoyed me, wondered if I was just playing in fun, made me wonder, sang for me, videotaped so I could watch later, played ball in the pool, handled the technical stuff, organized calenders, ranted, fell in the fire talking nonstop and begging for sex like a true subgenius, had BIG cocks that kept getting bigger ever since sending thirty dollars, didn't shit in any body of water at all seeing as how porta potties have that blue goo and not true water perse, ate a sponge, made fire for woman, used soldering irons to solve sewing problems, actually came from outer space and understood that I come from Planet A GO GO where we drink martinis and our walls are furry and red, took things too seriously and showed me what a dumbfuck I can be sometimes when I do that, invented a huge wiggling "Bob" head that defied explanation or equal, let me rub thier titties, got the joke, took it to another level, wore strap ons, arrived out of nowhere riding in a Galaxy with the top down and proceeded to get more right with "Bob" than most duespayers I'd say and Hail Rev. Imposter for hopping up on a big rock when the Xists failed us and danced around singing "I'm not gonna fry", People were Fyodor and Babushka, people took many drugs with no secrecy, people gave away drugs that others may take them, people wore nothing, people wore vinyl, polyesther, ham, cotton panties, lip gloss, fur, smoking jackets, tassles, velvet, peasant blouses, lightbulbs, magical glowing sticks, paper, cum, blood, wrestling belts, cloven bootheels, mullets, condoms, people wore other people, people had problems just because they like to have a problem, and others had no problems and no genuine nature, they got "Bob"tized and brushed thingies, people actually STAYED FOR THE SAUCERS AND FUCKED WORK, FUCKED SLEEP, FUCKED DOUBT, FUCKED LOGIC AND REASON, FUCKED SHAME, FUCKED WEEKDAYS, AND HAHAHAHAHA THEY GOT FUCKED IN THE END BY "BOB", JUST LIKE IT SHOULD BE. ALL'S RIGHT IN THE WORLD AND WE ALL LEARNED OUR LESSON.................UM YEAH, SO, UH, NEXT YEAR IS THE YEAR, YEAH, XXXX, THREES ARE FUNNY AND HUMOUR IS TOO OBVIOUS FOR THIS CHURCH, FOUR IS A GOOD HONEST NUMBER, FOUR X's, I'LL NEVER LEARN MY LESSON. i HAVE COMPLETE AND UTTER FAITH IN "BOB", NO KIDDING AT ALL. I was so impressed with everyone who stayed, not just because they stayed but they were just fucking cool. It was a nice small group and that was awesome and also very cool. Thankyou so much. You can do more. I will play with you. No matter what I promise to say yes if you will just convince me it will be fun, no wait, to heck with that, I don't promise anything to you losers, it's just a stupid fanclub...HA HA HA! I sure had you for a minute there, whooo, you thought I hated "Bob". Okay, I'm sorry, that was in poor taste, and you probably LIKED it. Sickos. And you started to really get weepy and touched by all that love talk and community, you fallible ones. But isn't that what this is all about? Being fallible? Making mistakes? Fucking up? I have fucked up! I screw up all the friggin' time. And there's nothing wrong with it...apart from the fact that it's evil and wrong and bad and I'm going to hell, obviously, that's just the right and good way.

You people kick ass and I wish I was still with you, SHIT, I guess I'm gonna have to make everyday X day and get my friends to help build a ship and frop and do all the things we do at Brushwood right here in Amherst, MA. What a damn shame. I'm gonna have to have a good time all year! Don't throw me in that briar patch, Brer Bear. Or should I say, Don't toss me in a pool full of jiggling titties. Cause that would suck ass, dude, totally. If I told you I wanted to stay in touch, please initiate and keep me from shying out. Euch, that's so touchy feely, But I'm an asshole, I forget to hit the buttons, It's not cause I hate you, and I know you were thinking that, you dammaged freaks.
SEND MONEY TO THE P.O. BOX, PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Unfortunately, until the great rupture, money is still our best friend in the fight against No-Xday-nosupplies-noslack. No, nix that, it's money AND insane-creative-faith together that will ensure a safe trip. So, in closing I say bring more ideas like cosmogolf and a fucking radio station and a damn lounge and a sex tent, dudes, mad props out to my homeys who be kickin' it prepared style. WORD.

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