Podcasts about clouds

// ABOUT  THIS  JOURNEY //We access the realm of your eternal soul's wisdom (Higher Self) by using hypnosis. Some of what we're exploring on this hypnotic adventure:Another lifetime where you can see how you embodied this love and wisdom of the eternal soul, Higher Self version of you.How can you connect even more to this energy and wisdom in your everyday life?What's the most beneficial way for you to use this energy right now in your life based on where you're at now and where you want to go?Plus room to ask follow up questions or bring a specific question or 2 to ask your Higher Self near the end of this journey.Want to share what you get while exploring on this hypnotic journey? Email hi@jinaseer.com. // WATCH  THE  VIDEO //https://youtu.be/Nmf8-kv6jJEThe video for this hypnotic journey I recorded form my backyard. Clouds moving across the sky and valley as the sun was rising. For the hypnotic journeys like in this episode, I've been making videos from my home to go with these journeys. The last episode video was of me in a hypnosis session. // SCHEDULE  YOUR  SESSION //- Schedule your session + learn more about my work: SeerSessions.com // SUBSCRIBE //- Get on my email list (weekly updates, free hyp journeys, BTS on the new pod, extended episodes/full pod eps) SeerSessions.com/subscribe

Send us a textJoel and Rick Malm delve into Chapter 3 of Joel's book, “Hiking the Clouds,” exploring the complexities of spiritual growth and the role of knowledge in faith. They discuss how knowledge, while crucial, shouldn't overshadow love and genuine transformation, highlighting the dangers of pride and self-righteousness that can arise from excessive knowledge. The episode offers practical insights into balancing biblical understanding with a humble heart, emphasizing the importance of self-reflection and pursuing a genuine relationship with God.In This Episode:00:00 Introduction to Hiking the Clouds01:19 Understanding Faith02:09 The Role of Knowledge in Faith05:01 The Challenge of Biblical Knowledge07:00 The Dangers of Knowledge Without Love09:41 The Heart of the Mattermature faith,spiritual growth,second peter,seven waypoints,faith,virtue,knowledge,self control,endurance,godliness,brotherly affection,agape,perfect love,stages of faith,awareness of god,transformation,information,bible study,christian life,image of christ,discipleship,self feeder,bible trivia,curse of knowledge,john macarthur,self righteousness,god's heart,david,search me oh god,way everlasting,word of god

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Come away with me as we float on the clouds of sleep tonight, beautiful. Letting go of the day behind you,  And embracing the calm of the night ahead. So relax your body and close your eyes, And let's begin with setting an intention for deep, nourishing sleep tonight, Releasing any resistance your body or your mind might have. Allow your body to sink a little further into your bed,  Adjusting yourself if needed to release any discomfort, And take a deep breath in, filling your body with fresh air all the way down to your toes, And as you exhale, feel yourself releasing the day, and relaxing even deeper. Another deep breath in, And release it all on your exhale, melting further into your bed. Let your breathing settle into a natural, easy rhythm as you follow the slow cadence of your body. Breathe in and expand, Breathe out and release, Expand, Release. Breathe in. Breathe out. PAUSE… Become aware of the softness underneath you, The way your body curves into comfort, The way your bed meets the heaviest parts of you with love, Welcoming your legs, Your hips, Your arms, And your head into deeper relaxation. Breathe… Join our Premium Sleep for Women Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Sleep podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here --> https://bit.ly/sleepforwomen  Join our Premium Meditation for Kids Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Kids podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here → https://bit.ly/meditationforkidsapple Hey, I'm so glad you're taking the time to be with us today. My team and I are dedicated to making sure you have all the meditations you need throughout all the seasons of your life.  If there's a meditation you desire, but can't find, email us at Katie Krimitsos to make a request. We'd love to create what you want!  Namaste, Beautiful,

Atmo will use its deep learning models to help Rainmaker identify clouds that have potential for seeding. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

A 30 minute mix featuring the voices of poets, community activists and folks in Montreal who joined a Palestine solidarity action outside of métro Laurier in July 2025. The photo was taken of poet Deanna Radford reading at the action by Abdelali Essaouis. In this 30 minute piece you hear from folks in this order: Marie Saadeh, who participants in Bikers for Palestine, Montreal Aymen Benbouzid, who also participants in Bikers for Palestine, Montreal Nizar, a Palestinian in the diaspora of Montreal reading Mahmoud Darwish. Rachel Cheng, a writer and food justice advocate reading George Abraham. Myriam Cloutier, a housing justice organizer with P.O.P.I.R. - Comité Logement. Peter Burton, from Arts in the Margins. Nashwa Lina Khan, of habibti please podcast reading Mohammed el-Kurd. Mireya Bayancela, poet, reading Fadwa Tuqan. Music clip at the end is Sun Through the Clouds by Jordan Christoff.

This week, we dive headfirst into Superman from the iconic charm of Christopher Reeve in Superman (1978), into the chaos of Superman II (1980), all the way to the brand-new 2025 reboot. Guests Adam Beam and Rachel Clow are along to explore what's changed, what's endured, and whether truth, justice, and hope still have a place in today's superhero landscape. Along the way, we're sipping on two stellar brews: Solar Myth from Real Ale Brewing, a cosmic IPA that packs a bright punch, and Life in the Clouds from Collective Arts Brewing, a hazy, dreamlike companion to our cinematic flight. It's nostalgia vs. modern spectacle, capes vs. cynicism, and a couple of great beers to keep things grounded. Up, up, and pour away.

This week Sydney Stand-up John Cruckshank makes his long awaited debut on the pod. We discuss Lime Bike culture, when Shank had a run in with fashion designer Alex Perry, a run in with the Brah boys as well as the future of his hit show 'Redfern Electrical' on Youtube. New Episode every Thursday! Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJscnfTTW_-aO5D81Xi22yw? Facebook: www.facebook.com/billydarcy1 Instagram: www.instagram.com/billy.darcy Music: 'In the Clouds' by RENNANSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Track Listing: Cool Affair - Dream AgainTallblackguy - As The Night Moves (ft. 3.Devin Morrison)Colman Brothers - On a Better Day I'm Dreaming (Tallblackguy Remix)Pete Rock - Something FunkyYarbrough - Purpose (ft. Philmore Green & DJ Kaotic)Tree Mason & Spanish Ran - Crown the Clouds (ft. Blue Azul)Declaime & Madlib - Wake UpAstronote - DOOMedQuelle Chris - The Sky is Blue Because the Sunset is Red (ft. MoRuf & Pink Siifu)Travi - ELRIC FreestyleJinsfake - FeatherJ Dilla - SunbeamsBahamadia - One-4-teen (Funky for you ) (ft. Slum Village)Domu - Gotta Set ItSaib - Spike Spiegel45 King - Street FunGonza - Relax Your MindV-Love - The WildernessRonny Jordan - Vanston Place (00am)

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

In this interview, I chat with Nathalia Holt about ⁠The Beast in the Clouds⁠⁠, how the panda bear was the last large mammal unknown to science, the Roosevelt brothers' unlikely but successful excursion, how they changed the way the world viewed conservation, how she learned about this story, finding a publisher for this tale, and much more. Nathalia's recommended reads are: Palace of Deception by Darrin Lunde On a Mission: The Smithsonian History of U.S. Women Astronauts by Valerie Neal Looking for some great summer reads? Check out my printable 18-page Summer Reading Guide ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ for a tip of your choice or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠for a set price here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ via credit card with over 60 new titles vetted by me that will provide great entertainment this summer - books you will not see on other guides. I also include mystery series recommendations, new releases in a next-in-the-series section and fiction and nonfiction pairings. Donate to the podcast ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠on Venmo⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Want to know which new titles are publishing in June - October of 2025? Check out our fourth ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Literary Lookbook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠which contains a comprehensive but not exhaustive list all in one place so you can plan ahead.     ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠The Beast in the Clouds⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ can be purchased at my Bookshop storefront.  Looking for something new to read? Here is my monthly ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Buzz Reads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ column with five new recommendations each month. Link to my article about ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠older protagonists in fiction⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.     Connect with me on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, and ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Threads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Earlier this year, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists moved the Doomsday Clock closer to midnight. The end of the world has been something humans have been preoccupied with for a very long time. This hour, we talk about how we imagine the world ending, and what it says about us. GUESTS: Dorian Lynskey: Journalist and author of multiple books, most recently Everything Must Go: The Stories We Tell About the End of the World. He is also co-host of the Origin Story podcast. Brian Slattery: Freelance writer and editor. He is the author of four novels. His latest short story is “Clouds” which appears in the anthology Shadow Lab Join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter. Subscribe to The Noseletter, an email compendium of merriment, secrets, and ancient wisdom brought to you by The Colin McEnroe Show. The Colin McEnroe Show is available as a podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Amazon Music, TuneIn, Listen Notes, or wherever you get your podcasts. Subscribe and never miss an episode. Colin McEnroe and Dylan Reyes contributed to this show, which originally aired on February 4, 2025.Support the show: http://www.wnpr.org/donateSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Richard Askwith is the multi-award-winning author of books such as Feet in the Clouds, Running Free (“a runner's journey back to nature”), Today We Die a Little (a biography of the great Emil Zátopek) and The Race Against Time (about running in later life). A keen runner for over 40 years, he claims to have achieved “almost nothing” in the sport apart from “life-changing satisfaction”. But he did appear as an extra in the 1981 film Chariots of Fire. Here he faces questions from a live audience over Zoom. Podcast host Adharanand Finn is the author of three award-winning books, Running with the Kenyans, The Way of the Runner, and The Rise of the Ultra Runners. Follow The Way of the Runner podcast on Instagram: @thewayoftherunner or find it at thewayoftherunner.com The podcast is supported by Adharanand's Patreon page, which is full of original and exclusive material: patreon.com/adharanandfinn Music by Starfrosch

On this week's episode, host Bree Mills is joined by award-winning performers Gizelle Blanco & Anna Claire Clouds! The trio sit down to chat about unexpected award wins, how off-screen chemistry can make or break a scene, and the mysteries of anal. Tune in to hear all things going clam-to-clam, deepthroating tips, crazy strip club stories, why the bush is SO BACK, and SO MUCH MORE!Anna Claire Clouds: https://www.instagram.com/annaclairecloudstv/Gizelle Blanco: https://www.instagram.com/gizzyblanco/Bree Mills: https://www.instagram.com/thebreemills/ The ADULT TIME Podcast: ⁠https://linktr.ee/TheADULTTIMEPodcast ABOUT ADULT TIME:Adult Time is a digital subscription platform for a new era of adult entertainment. We are a brand built by people who believe in a future where mature audiences can safely, securely, and proudly have a place in their lineup for premium adult content. In addition to our addictive programming, Adult Time is dedicated to creating a personalized content experience for all our viewers with 400+ channels, 60,000 episodes, and VR and interactive toy integration.

Send us a textHave you ever felt stuck in a strange emotional limbo? That's exactly where I found myself recently - packing boxes for my move from Florida back to Tennessee, excited for what's ahead, yet somehow disconnected from my usual joy. Through quiet reflection, I discovered a profound truth that Dr. Blake Livingood captures perfectly: "The sun is always shining. You just need to move the clouds."This episode takes you on a deeply personal journey as I uncover the one thing I haven't fully surrendered despite all my other life changes - my relationship with food. Tracing back to childhood moments of sneaking bread, butter and sugar in the pantry as the youngest of six kids, I reveal how this earliest coping mechanism became my default response to stress and transitions. The emotional honesty in this revelation might just help you identify what's blocking your own light.We explore the fascinating connection between fasting, cellular healing, and emotional freedom. Did you know that trauma becomes imprinted in our cells, especially before age seven? Through practices like intermittent fasting and autophagy (cellular cleanup), we can release these stored traumas. I share how my previously successful fasting practices fell away and how reclaiming them might be key to clearing old patterns.This raw, real-time revelation shows how transitions often expose the very areas we need to heal. Whether you're facing a major life change or simply feeling disconnected from your purpose, this episode offers valuable insights on identifying and releasing what no longer serves you. What cloud is blocking your light, and what might happen when you finally move it aside? Join me in this transformative exploration of authentic living and discover what might be waiting on the other side of surrender.Support the show

Send us a textHave you ever felt stuck in a strange emotional limbo? That's exactly where I found myself recently - packing boxes for my move from Florida back to Tennessee, excited for what's ahead, yet somehow disconnected from my usual joy. Through quiet reflection, I discovered a profound truth that Dr. Blake Livingood captures perfectly: "The sun is always shining. You just need to move the clouds."This episode takes you on a deeply personal journey as I uncover the one thing I haven't fully surrendered despite all my other life changes - my relationship with food. Tracing back to childhood moments of sneaking bread, butter and sugar in the pantry as the youngest of six kids, I reveal how this earliest coping mechanism became my default response to stress and transitions. The emotional honesty in this revelation might just help you identify what's blocking your own light.We explore the fascinating connection between fasting, cellular healing, and emotional freedom. Did you know that trauma becomes imprinted in our cells, especially before age seven? Through practices like intermittent fasting and autophagy (cellular cleanup), we can release these stored traumas. I share how my previously successful fasting practices fell away and how reclaiming them might be key to clearing old patterns.This raw, real-time revelation shows how transitions often expose the very areas we need to heal. Whether you're facing a major life change or simply feeling disconnected from your purpose, this episode offers valuable insights on identifying and releasing what no longer serves you. What cloud is blocking your light, and what might happen when you finally move it aside? Join me in this transformative exploration of authentic living and discover what might be waiting on the other side of surrender.Support the show

Send us a textHave you ever felt stuck in a strange emotional limbo? That's exactly where I found myself recently - packing boxes for my move from Florida back to Tennessee, excited for what's ahead, yet somehow disconnected from my usual joy. Through quiet reflection, I discovered a profound truth that Dr. Blake Livingood captures perfectly: "The sun is always shining. You just need to move the clouds."This episode takes you on a deeply personal journey as I uncover the one thing I haven't fully surrendered despite all my other life changes - my relationship with food. Tracing back to childhood moments of sneaking bread, butter and sugar in the pantry as the youngest of six kids, I reveal how this earliest coping mechanism became my default response to stress and transitions. The emotional honesty in this revelation might just help you identify what's blocking your own light.We explore the fascinating connection between fasting, cellular healing, and emotional freedom. Did you know that trauma becomes imprinted in our cells, especially before age seven? Through practices like intermittent fasting and autophagy (cellular cleanup), we can release these stored traumas. I share how my previously successful fasting practices fell away and how reclaiming them might be key to clearing old patterns.This raw, real-time revelation shows how transitions often expose the very areas we need to heal. Whether you're facing a major life change or simply feeling disconnected from your purpose, this episode offers valuable insights on identifying and releasing what no longer serves you. What cloud is blocking your light, and what might happen when you finally move it aside? Join me in this transformative exploration of authentic living and discover what might be waiting on the other side of surrender.Support the show

Narrator: Jessika Downes-Gössl

Grief can be blinding. When sorrow settles over our hearts like a heavy fog, even the truth can be hard to see. In this heartfelt devotional, Sarah Frazer shares how grief can cloud our belief—just like it did for the disciples when they couldn’t accept Jesus’ resurrection. This message gently reminds us that even when we feel spiritually numb, God’s presence is near. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, lasting comfort and faith are still available to us—even when we feel broken. Highlights Grief can cloud faith, just as it did for Jesus’ disciples after the crucifixion. When loss or sorrow overwhelms us, we may struggle to believe God is still good—or still near. Mark 16 shows how even those closest to Jesus had moments of unbelief in their grief. God's presence—through the Holy Spirit—is our source of strength when belief is hard to muster. Jesus blesses those who have not seen, yet still believe (John 20:29). That’s us today. We are not alone in our sorrow. The Holy Spirit comforts, assures, and strengthens us through seasons of suffering.

Original Episodes: "Heirloom" Season 12, Episode 6 "The Village Races" Season 14, Episode 13 "Fireflies On a Summer Night" Season 3, Episode 11 Radiolab Firefly episode Subscribe to our Premium channel. The first month is on us. 

We pray you enjoy this lesson from the 2025 QRP Ladies Meeting by Mrs. Tiffany Poplin on "The Clouds are the Dust of His Feet"

Original Episodes: "Heirloom" Season 12, Episode 6 "The Village Races" Season 14, Episode 13 "Fireflies On a Summer Night" Season 3, Episode 11 Radiolab Firefly episode Subscribe to our Premium channel. The first month is on us. 

Tebbs and Corm as shouting at Clouds with a whistle stop episode to review Thunderbolts*, Marvels latest serving from the MCUemail up podmoviechef@gmail.com

Send us a textIn this episode of Mother's Guide Through Autism, Brigitte speaks with Coach Lee Hopkins, a social connections coach and late-diagnosed autistic adult. As the founder of Patterns of Possibility, he supports individuals and organizations in creating connection through authenticity, boundaries, and conscious conversation.Lee shares his personal journey and insights into helping neurodivergent individuals build meaningful relationships without losing themselves in the process. They discuss:- different types of relationships, setting boundaries using needs, negotiables, and nevers- the importance of parents modeling and nurturing authentic connections- practical tools for parents to support and understand their children's unique ways of connecting with othersEpisode Chapters:00:00 Introduction to the Podcast and Guest03:01 Coach Lee Hopkins' Journey05:27 Challenges of Social Connections07:41 Parental Support and Patience15:24 Strategic Vulnerability Explained23:48 Defining Friendships and Social Categories26:02 Understanding Family and Friend Connections27:08 Facilitating Conversations with Children27:07 Strategic Vulnerability in Friendships27:41 Defining Friendships and Autonomy29:05 The Importance of Clear Definitions in Relationships29:41 Recognizing True Connections31:30 Needs, Negotiables, and Nevers Framework37:13 Practical Activities for Building Social Confidence38:13 Expressing and Understanding Emotions41:53 Inspiring Hope and Trust in Parent-Child Connections46:01 Final Thoughts and ResourcesEnjoy!Coach Lee's Website:https://www.patternsofpossibility.com/LinkedIn:https://www.linkedin.com/in/coachleehopkins/TikTok:https://www.tiktok.com/@patternsofpossibility

In this multi-grantee episode, Hawaiʻi Rising speaks with three organizations uplifting their communities through filmmaking. First, we speak with Pua Case from Mauna Kea Education & Awareness and filmmaker Jalena Keane-Lee about their feature-length documentary Standing Above the Clouds, which premiered last year. Building on an earlier short film with the same name released in 2020, the feature-length documentary follows three families of Native Hawaiian mother-daughter activists standing to protect sacred Mauna Kea from the construction of the massive Thirty Meter Telescope. Next, we revisit our 2022 conversation with Vera Zambonelli, the founder of Hawaiʻi Women in Filmmaking. Hawaiʻi Women in Filmmaking is a longtime HPF grantee partner committed to advancing gender equity in filmmaking and advocating for women to tell their stories through film with an intersectional lens. HWF's Reel Camps are filmmaking camps for girls and femme-identifying youth. Finally, we turn to the important behind-the-scenes work of archiving film footage with the initiative Hoʻomau Nā Maka o ka ʻĀina. In this conversation recorded in 2023, we speak with Aunty Joan Lander of Nā Maka o ka ʻĀina and Emma Broderick from Puʻuhonua Society about this effort to catalog and archive over 6000 video tapes of footage shot by documentary organization Nā Maka o ka ʻĀina. To learn more about these hui, listen to our full episodes with them: 23. Mauna Kea Education and Awareness: Standing Every Day for the Mauna 32. Hawai‘i Women in Filmmaking: Getting Reel about Social Change 48. Mauna Kea Education and Awareness: A Pillar for the Lāhui 56. Puʻuhonua Society: Hoʻomau Nā Maka o ka ʻĀina   Tags: Hawaiʻi, Hawai'i, Hawaii

Six-year-old Lilly and four-year-old Jack Sullivan vanished from their rural Nova Scotia home on May 2nd, 2025. Their disappearance sparked an immediate and massive search effort, involving hundreds of volunteer searchers, K9 units, helicopters, drones, and specialized RCMP units, meticulously combing miles of the dense, challenging terrain near Lansdowne Station.  Despite these efforts, there have been no confirmed sightings of the kids, and it seems like the best evidence they have is a child-sized boot print and potentially a piece of blanket belonging to one of the children. Anyone with information can call the Rewards for Major Unsolved Crimes Program at 1-888-710-9090. If you'd prefer to remain anonymous, you can call Crime Stoppers of Nova Scotia at 1-800-222-8477. There is a $150,000 reward for information leading to Lilly and Jack. For more information about the podcast and the cases discussed, visit ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠VoicesforJusticePodcast.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠   Follow us on social media: Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠   Voices for Justice is hosted by Sarah Turney Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ YouTube: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahTurney⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠   The introduction music used in Voices for Justice is Thread of Clouds by Blue Dot Sessions. Outro music is Melancholic Ending by Soft and Furious. The track used for ad transitions is Pinky by Blue Dot Sessions. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

IDM: new VRIL (Portugal) Mid Era: new Alan Graves (USA) TIME ARTIST TRACK RELEASE 0:00:00 ***Intro*** [IDM]     0:00:08 VRIL habit forming (featuring ZDBT) Saturn Is A Supercomputer 0:03:17 Kurtlar Vadisi KV Istanbul Kurtlar Vadisi 0:08:04 FMS  Lost Purpose (busring mix)   0:20:03 Motoric Plexis The Lost Planet   0:30:38 Januzath That's Called The Darkside, Man!!!!!   0:35:22 Alisú Angel de Mi Guarda Fotogramas 0:39:22 Errance idyll   0:45:37 Tagliabue abisso Abisso 0:49:16 Heogen fair flight Inantiphsea 0:58:40 ***break*** [Mid Era]     1:01:30 Boris SG berlin school and summer eclipse    1:11:15 RMI the ghost of brigantine beach  Clouds of Titan 1:25:27 Alan Graves inversion lull A Possible Wind 1:28:16 Holger Marienberg Improvisation 1+2   1:42:00 Gastón Arévalo maritim Marea 1:45:12 NightBirds  Live Improvisation (excerpt)   2:00:16 ***Outro***       Keywords: International electronic music internet electronic artists unsigned electronic artists Low Orbit Satellite Ambient Symphonic Rock Progressive Rock Art Rock Tribal Trance PsyTrance Ethno/PsyTrance IDM Nonima Dub Step Mid Era Berlin School

How can anyone forget those photos of Trump's sons celebrating over the carcasses of dead animals that they shot in Africa? Fortunately, not all sons of American Presidents behave so tastelessly in the wild. As Nathalia Holt argues in her new history, The Beast in the Clouds, Teddy Roosevelt's sons found redemption - and regret - in their (peaceful) 1928 quest for the giant panda in northwestern China. Holt argues that their remarkable expedition marked a pivotal moment in conservation history, transforming scientific thinking from hunting endangered species to protecting them, while simultaneously offering the troubled Roosevelt brothers their greatest achievement and deepest source of remorse. We should all give thanks for Teddy and his boys. Where would the wilderness or endangered species be without them?1. The expedition transformed scientific thinking from hunting to conservation"The story that I'm telling is all about the birth of conservation biology and how scientists changed their minds, how they went from believing that endangered animals needed to be hunted and killed to be studied to instead be described and to be photographed and to given far more protections."2. The Roosevelt sons were escaping personal and professional failures"Both the sons at this point in their lives, they are 41 and 39 years old, they're in a way running away from life... Ted, the eldest son, has just been what his wife called politically obliterated... Kermit Roosevelt, who has struggled. He does not have a successful business. He suffers from alcoholism."3. The panda was genuinely mythical to Western science"The panda was this animal that was mythical. Many people did not believe it even existed in the Western world... Many people believe that the panda would be a cross between a polar bear and a black bear, a very aggressive, dangerous animal."4. The expedition's success led to immediate regret and conservation efforts"When they come back after this trip they immediately regret their actions with the panda... And the Roosevelts are devastated by this because they know that they are the ones that have caused this."5. The expedition pioneered modern species protection policies"The panda is really the first animal to gain these protections. It's a real turning point, because you've had many endangered animals previously, that they're just, they go extinct and nobody makes any laws... But the pandas, because they know how rare they are, they decide to change things."Keen On America is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit keenon.substack.com/subscribe

There has been person after person trying to predict when Jesus is coming back. They have sold books, made videos, movies, tv programs, etc talking about Jesus' return. We talk about it in this podcast because Paul talks about it to the church in Thessalonica. He does so because he wants them to be encourage by it. They had lost loved ones to persecution and they thought they would never see them again, so Paul comforts them by telling them, “Jesus is coming back and when he does, your loved ones that were following him, they're coming with him...” We're going to look at the facts and stay away from the fluff...

At least 31 workers were able to escape after a tunnel collapse in Wilmington. They seeded clouds over Texas. Then came the conspiracy theories!

Send us a textJoël and Rick continue their discussion of Joël's new book -- Hiking the Clouds --about the stages of faith. Starting with the importance of a strict moral code and obedience as a foundation for all other stages on the journey of awareness. 

Part 1 Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss Summary"Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation" by Lynne Truss is a witty and engaging exploration of the importance of punctuation in writing. The book emphasizes how proper punctuation can change the meaning of sentences and affect the clarity of communication.Truss uses the amusing title, derived from a joke about a panda that eats bamboo, shoots (the bamboo), and leaves, to illustrate how punctuation marks can drastically alter interpretations. The book is structured into various chapters that focus on different punctuation marks, including periods, commas, apostrophes, quotation marks, and more, providing historical context, grammatical rules, and humorous anecdotes to highlight common mistakes and misuses.Throughout the text, Truss adopts a light-hearted yet serious tone regarding the decline of punctuation standards in contemporary writing, largely due to the rise of digital communication and informal writing styles. She argues for a return to precision and traditional grammar, emphasizing that punctuation is not just a set of arbitrary symbols but a crucial tool for conveying meaning accurately."Eats, Shoots & Leaves" serves as both a guide and a manifesto for punctuation enthusiasts and those who may be less familiar with grammatical rules. Truss's passion for punctuation shines through, making the subject entertaining and accessible to a wide audience, ultimately advocating for careful and thoughtful writing.Part 2 Eats, Shoots & Leaves AuthorLynne Truss is a British author, journalist, and broadcaster best known for her humorous writing on the subject of grammar and punctuation. Her most famous work, Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, was released in 2003. This book became a bestseller and garnered significant attention for its witty take on the importance of punctuation. Other WorksBeyond Eats, Shoots & Leaves, Lynne Truss has authored several other notable books, including:Talk to the Hand: The Utter Bloody Rudeness of the World Today, or A Cure for Lapses of Civility (2005) A humorous examination of contemporary manners and rudeness.Get Her Off the Pitch: How Sport Can Change Our Lives (2007) A look at gender and sport, examining the position of women in various sports.On the Brighter Side: A Comic Look at Life (2007) A collection of humorous essays on various subjects.Twenty-Odd Years (The Collected Columns) (2009) A compilation of her columns from various publications.The Lynne Truss Treasury (2010) A collection of her best writings.The Grammar Warrior's Handbook (2011) A guide to grammar with a humorous twist.A Sentence of Death (2015) A mystery novel featuring her character Constable Tilly.A Circus of Clouds (2016) A fiction book that presents an engaging tale.Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Comic (2021) Illustrated version of the original work. Best EditionsEats, Shoots & Leaves has seen several editions, including paperback, hardcover, and special illustrated versions. The 10th Anniversary Edition released in 2013 often receives highlights for its updates and reflections on the decade since the original publication. It typically contains additional commentary and reflections on how language use and punctuation have evolved over the years, making it particularly valuable for readers interested in both the humorous aspects and linguistic education.Overall, Truss's combination of humor and insightful commentary on language has solidified her place in contemporary literature, and Eats, Shoots & Leaves remains her most significant contribution to literature.Part 3 Eats, Shoots & Leaves Chapters"Eats, Shoots & Leaves" by Lynne Truss primarily focuses on the importance of punctuation in written language. The...

This week Sydney comedian Pat Doherty joins us to discuss his new podcast, delivering hand sanitiser during covid, getting fired from jobs, getting existential in your 30's and more. New Episode every Thursday! Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJscnfTTW_-aO5D81Xi22yw? Facebook: www.facebook.com/billydarcy1 Instagram: www.instagram.com/billy.darcy Music: 'In the Clouds' by RENNANSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hey, it's Katie and I want to welcome you to this special bonus episode. It'll be here for you completely ad-free for the next week so you can get a feel of what it's like to be a PREMIUM member. If you'd like an easy ad-free experience for all of our podcasts - that's over 200 episodes each month, then JOIN PREMIUM today at https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Allow your eyes to close,  And melt into your space, The rhythm of your breath is slow.  Ease into yourself,  Come deeper inside, Find a smooth, gentle flow.  LONG PAUSE There's gray that exists, Clouds that hover and swirl,  Keeping you separate from truth.  Here is where you come, To breathe the clouds away, Open for what's here to choose. Join our Premium Sleep for Women Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Sleep podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here -->⁠ https://bit.ly/sleepforwomen⁠ Join our Premium Meditation for Kids Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Kids podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here → ⁠https://bit.ly/meditationforkidsapple⁠ I'm so glad you're taking the time to be with us today. My team and I are dedicated to making sure you have all the meditations you need throughout all the seasons of your life.  If there's a meditation you desire, but can't find, email us at ⁠hello@womensmeditationnetwork.com⁠ to make a request. We'd love to create what you want!  Namaste, Beautiful,

Key Points:Charles Jagusah Injury & Offensive Line Depth Chart: In case of an offensive guard injury, there are discussions about whether to replace with another guard or move a tackle to guard and start a different tackle.Recruiting Success: Discussion on Marcus Freeman's success in recruiting NFL players' children, attributing it to Freeman's connection with players and the appeal of Notre Dame's education.Offensive System: There is confusion regarding the roles of receivers and tight ends in the Notre Dame offense, particularly the definition of a "slot" receiver and the potential for a versatile system.Preseason Rankings: Inquiry about the likelihood of a preseason top 10 team finishing unranked, specifically comparing Notre Dame's chances to other top 10 teams.Wide Receiver Recruiting: Notre Dame has had a successful week in recruiting wide receivers, but questions remain about how the offense will utilize their talent.James Rendell's Status: There is a question regarding James Rendell's projected performance for the upcoming season and whether his remaining eligibility has been clarified.Sign up now to access the daily Notre Dame news and recruiting scoop on the Four Horsemen Lounge and all of the premium Notre Dame stories on IrishIllustrated.com!Get your first month for only $1.00 -- sign up today.

Ben noticed a handful of comics that were clearly released for the new Superman movie and . . . they got him. Or he got them. Or he got them because they got him? Some were at Dollar Tree, one was at Wal-Mart AND his local grocery store, and one was a facsimile comic from […]

In the summer of 2019, two friends met up at a very popular park and within 14 minutes, they were both shot and killed in broad daylight. While it's been 6 years since their murders, at the end of May 2025, their names were back in the news as investigators began looking into a murder-suicide they believe may be related. Kate Brown and Carnell Sledge were shot and killed at the Rocky River Reservation in Fairview Park, Ohio, on June 4th, 2019. Kate was 33 years old, and Carnell was 40 years old. As of recording this episode, their case remains unsolved. Anyone with information is asked to call the FBI's Cleveland Field Office at (216) 622-6842, the Cleveland Metroparks Police Department at (440) 331-5219, or Crime Stoppers at (216) 252-7463. Tips can also be submitted at tips.fbi.gov. To learn more or to donate to the foundations discussed in this episode, you can visit https://barbergibbsdreams.net/ and https://sledgeshelpinghands.betterworld.org/ For more information about the podcast and the cases discussed, visit ⁠⁠⁠⁠VoicesforJusticePodcast.com⁠⁠⁠⁠   Follow us on social media: Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠   Voices for Justice is hosted by Sarah Turney Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠⁠ YouTube: ⁠⁠⁠⁠@SarahTurney⁠⁠⁠⁠   The introduction music used in Voices for Justice is Thread of Clouds by Blue Dot Sessions. Outro music is Melancholic Ending by Soft and Furious. The track used for ad transitions is Pinky by Blue Dot Sessions. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

I'm a big fan of Nathalia (Nat) Holt's books, and am so excited to have the opportunity to talk to her about her new book, The Beast in the Clouds: The Roosevelt Brothers' Deadly Quest to Find the Mythical Giant Panda. I first met Nat when her book Cured: The People Who Defeated HIV came out and I attended a book event at Dartmouth Medical Center. She is so smart and curious and in this episode we will be talking about the process of researching elusive history, where her ideas come from, and who gets to tell what stories. Nathalia Holt's websiteTranscript below!EPISODE 455 - TRANSCRIPTJess LaheyHey, AmWriters! It's Jess Lahey here. I am so excited to talk about a new series that I am putting out there on the Hashtag AmWriting platform called From Soup to Nuts. I interview and work with and mentor an author—a nonfiction author—who has subject matter expertise and a killer idea, frankly, that just knocked me sideways. This author really thinks this is the time and place for this idea. And I agreed, and I asked her—I begged her—if I could mentor her through this process in a series. We're having to work together on agenting and proposal and all the stuff that you've got to do, from soup to nuts, to get a book out into the world. This series, From Soup to Nuts, is subscriber-only. The first episode is free, so you can go back and listen to that. That's for everyone. But if you want to join us for the whole process and learn from her mistakes—and learn from the stuff that I'm working on right now too—you have to subscribe. So consider supporting the Hashtag AmWriting podcast. It helps us bring you stuff like this—these extra series—not to mention the podcast itself. Alright, it's a lot of work. Help us support our podcast and these extra bonus series. By becoming a supporter, you'll get a sticker for it. You'll get your hypothetical, figurative sticker for being a good Hashtag AmWriting.Multiple speakers:Is it recording? Now it's recording, yay. Go ahead. This is the part where I stare blankly at the microphone. I don't remember what I'm supposed to be doing. All right, let's start over. Awkward pause… I'm going to rustle some papers. Okay, now one, two, three.Jess LaheyHey, this is the Hashtag AmWriting podcast. This is the podcast about writing all the things—writing the short things, writing the long things, writing the queries, the proposals, the poetry, the fiction, the nonfiction. This is the podcast actually, at its heart, about getting the work done. I am Jess Lahey. I am your host today. I'm the author of the New York Times best-selling The Gift of Failure and The Addiction Inoculation. And you can find my journalism at The New York Times and The Atlantic and The Washington Post. And today I am interviewing an author I respect deeply. I have known this author since she wrote her first book, which overlapped with some work that my husband does and some work that I had done in a previous career, and she has gone on to have a glorious and enviable career in nonfiction. My dream has always been to be one of those people that can, like, get curious about a topic and then just go off and write about that topic. And this is what she does. So Natalia—NAT—Holt, I am so excited to introduce you to our listeners. They are deep, deep, deep lovers of the nuts and bolts and the geeky details of the writing and the process. So welcome to the Hashtag AmWriting podcast.Nathalia HoltThank you so much. I'm excited to talk to you today.Jess LaheySo we have a book on HIV—the first book, Cured, which is the way that I got to know you. Also, full disclosure, we share an agent. Laurie Abkemeier is our agent, and I think she actually may have introduced us in the first place. Yeah, your first book—yeah, your first book, Cured, about the Berlin patients. Really interesting—if you've never heard of the Berlin patients, listeners, just, just Google it. It's really a fascinating story. I'll go over—I'll go read Cured. Cured is all about the Berlin patients. And then we have The Queens of Animation—the women behind, sort of, the way Disney does what they do. And—and—and then we also have Rise of the Rocket Girls, which is another fascinating book out there about the women behind a lot of the math and the planning and the work that was done to get us into space. And so when I heard about your new book, I'm like, "Oh, NAT's working on a new book. Great! What women are we going to talk about this time?" And it's such a departure for you, and it is such a fascinating topic for you. And, well, for me, it's like—it's deep in my geeky, Jess-book-loving nonfiction zone. Could you tell us a little bit about it and where the idea came from for this book?Nathalia HoltSure. The book is called The Beast in the Clouds, and it's about an expedition that the two eldest sons of President Theodore Roosevelt took in 1928 and 1929. And they went to China and Tibet in search of the giant panda, which at that time was unknown to Western scientists. And even in China, there were very few people that were aware of where this animal lived, what it ate—so little was known. So during this time period, the 1920s, you have all of these expeditions going to China, trying to find this black-and-white bear that no one is really sure exists. It's just a crazy period of history, because you have all of the other bears at that time—even polar bears—were known and even were in zoos. But the panda was not, and many people even thought it would be a ferocious bear. They thought this was going to be, you know, a combination of polar and black bears.Jess LaheyYeah, yeah.Nathalia HoltSo that's what the Roosevelts are going to. And so the expedition ends up being torturous, deadly. They're going through the Himalayas. They're not very well prepared. They lose all their food. They're attacked. They get lost. Just every crazy thing happens to them. But it's also a journey of transformation. They're documenting all of the ecology around them, and it really ends up changing their own worldview. And so it was such a fun book to research and to write. And I spent a lot of time also going into many of the other ex—many of the other members of the expedition, which was—which was fun, and maybe a little bit different than other books in this genre. But yeah, for me, you know, it's scary to be writing a part of history that is very different than what I've done before—but it's also fun.Jess LaheyWhere'd the germ of the idea for the book come from? Because I had never heard this story before. I guess it had just never occurred to me—like, where do we—how do we know about the panda bear?Nathalia HoltYeah, it's not a topic that has been written about much before, and I came across it while I was researching my last book, which is called Wise Gals, and is about women that helped form the CIA. And as part of that book, I was looking into the Roosevelts' role in World War Two. And it's so confusing when you research the Roosevelts, because they all have the same name. It's just Theodore and...Jess LaheyActually, I have to tell you, Tim's a huge fan—my husband, Tim, who you also know, is a big fan and has read a lot about—and he's like, "Well, which Roosevelt?" So you—and I'm like, "Oh, that's a really good question. I don't know which Roosevelt... like, the adventuring ones." He's like, "Well..." [unintelligible]Nathalia HoltYeah, there's so many of them, and they all have the same name. And so as I was trying to parse out son and father—who are both named Kermit Roosevelt and both served in World War Two—I kind of stumbled across this expedition that the elder Kermit Roosevelt had taken. So he and his older brother, Theodore, who were the sons of President Theodore Roosevelt, and so it just kind of—it came from there. Just sort of came from wanting to learn more about it. And I always love a challenge. If there's a topic that's difficult to research, that seems impossible to find anything about—I'm there. I want to know everything.Jess LaheyYeah. So, okay, so here's a—really a question that I—well, first of all, you and I are both research geeks. I just—I have said I could just keep researching books and not actually write the books. I just love that process. So aside from the easy answer, which is Google, like, where do you start with a story that hasn't been told yet? How do you start diving into that story, and where do you find information?Nathalia HoltIt's difficult, and it depends on the topic. For this one, I went through a number of different archives, and that was great. I was able to get old letters that the Roosevelts had. But I really wanted to bring in other voices. I was really, really persistent in my desire to bring in Jack Young, who was this young, 19-year-old, Hawaiian-born translator and naturalist on the trip. And I was fortunate enough that I was able to track down some interviews he had done with another author back in the 1990s, and I just was persistent. I just pleaded until I got these tapes and was able to get all these interviews with him. And then I also contacted his daughter, who lives in Hawaii, and was able to get his unpublished autobiography. And it gives such an interesting perspective, because Jack Young went on and became a very impressive person and really deserves a biography all of his own, but he was also very close friends with the Roosevelts. They had a real connection—a real bond. And you get a different sense of the story when you're hearing it through his descriptions of what it was like, because he is young, and he is sort of really documenting things for the first time. And then, in addition, I was so lucky with this book because I was able to also get the field journals from a scientist that was on the expedition, as well as all the writings from another naturalist. So it was fascinating, because there were so many different accounts of the same events, which really lets you go into detail about what it was like, what people were feeling, what they were seeing. And I don't think I've ever had that before—where I have so many different accounts of the exact same events.Jess LaheyThat's really cool, because it gives you that ability to, you know—if we went with just Jack Young's account, then you've got the Jack Young lens. And as you well know, history gets to be told by certain people, unless someone like you comes along and says, "Oh, wait, this account has not been brought to the surface," whether it's the women who are the animators at Disney, or whether it's the women who are part of NASA. So how do you—if you go into something like this and you have a limited number of perspectives—it sounds like you had a fair number of perspectives going into this, but since the documentation happened—usually tends to happen among the more powerful, the more privileged people—how do you manage getting a full perspective on an event like this expedition when you may have limited perspectives?Nathalia HoltThat is the real challenge, because it's easy to get the Roosevelts' documentation.Jess LaheyYeah, yeah, yeah.Nathalia HoltI have all of their journals, all of their letters. I am able to get into real detail about what this expedition was like for them. Even the difficult parts—for them—they really documented that, and everything has been saved. For the others... it's much more difficult, and it really requires that persistence of being able to get the letters. Being able to get the autobiography was really key, because he goes into so much detail about what things were like. And these interviews that he did were also really, really helpful, because he goes into a lot of his feelings about what it was like to be with the Roosevelts on the expedition, about how he felt… Because his father was born in China, his mother was born in San Francisco, he himself was born in Hawaii—which, at that time, is not part of the U.S.—he feels like he doesn't have a country. He doesn't know where he is. So when he's in China, he can speak all of these languages, but he's still struggling to connect and be able to talk with people, because there are so many dialects.Jess LaheyYeah.Nathalia HoltAnd so to be able to get into what that was like, and how he felt—just gives such a perspective—a different perspective of the expedition than perhaps what is usually had in these kinds of books. And he also talks a lot about the guides on the expedition, which was really interesting. There were a lot of women that were part of this expedition. Half of the guides, who kind of act as Sherpas—they, you know, they carry things, they lead the way, they guide the route, they make camp. And so there are just some great moments with these guides—especially the women guides—where they are just protecting from crazy marauders that have come down and have attacked the group. And lots of great moments like that. That was really interesting to document. And in addition, another thing I was able to get for this book is—there was actually some early video and a lot of photographs that were taken.Jess LaheyOh my goodness.Nathalia HoltBy one of the members. And that is just such an incredible thing—to be looking at video of this expedition in the 1920s—it's just amazing.Jess LaheyOkay, so geek question here, since this is definitely what our listeners like the most. So I haven't laid hands on the book yet, because it's not out yet—did you put photographs in the book? Were you able to get access to photographs, and did you put them in the book? And I ask that because whenever I write a proposal or we're working on a book proposal, we have to indicate whether or not there's going to be artwork, and that changes things in terms of budget, and it changes things in terms of permissions and stuff. And I was curious about—I've never dealt with that side of it before, but maybe you have.Nathalia HoltI have. I've always sent photographs, and I love it. Because I feel like it helps when you read the book—especially a book like this.Jess LaheyYeah.Nathalia HoltYou know, when I'm describing what they look like, and where they are, you want to see it with your own eyes. And so it's really interesting to be able to see those photographs. And I had so many, and it's always a challenge to parse out—who has the permissions? Where do they come from? Finding the photographs—this always takes forever. Fortunately, this particular book was maybe a little bit easier, because a lot of the photographs are out of copyright, that had been published at that time. So that was nice. But yeah, no, it was still just a mess, as it always is. It's always a mess to figure out who do photographs belong to. I feel like I would love to become a lawyer—just for that moment in researching a book.Jess LaheyThat's a whole layer I've never had to go into. And it was easier for me to—rather than just say, "Yeah, I'd like to include this one thing," and then I realized the nightmare that's ahead of me in terms of accessing and getting permission and all that stuff. I'm like, "Eh! Let's just stick with what we got in the print." But, for something like this—and especially when you're writing about, for example, animation, or if you're writing about, you know, this expedition, and there's art available—you know, it sounds like it's really, really worth it for that aspect. I mean, that's definitely something I would want in this book. So I think I know the answer to this question. This is a heavily loaded question, but are you—when it comes to research and it comes to what you include in the book—are you an overwriter or an underwriter? Or do you land pretty much—like, when you're doing your editing, are you like, "Oh no, this was the perfect amount to include?"Nathalia HoltOh, I'm a terrible overwriter.Jess LaheyOh. So am I!Nathalia HoltIt's really a problem. But I worked very hard on this book at cutting, and it was not easy for me, because I do always tend to go way overboard. I'm always over the word count that I'm supposed to be at—with the exception of this book, where I did a very good job of cutting it down and really trying to focus and not, you know, getting too distracted.Jess LaheyYeah, we joke all the time with my other co-hosts and friends that my—like, my history sections in both of my books could have been half of the book or, you know... and all the stuff that ends up on the floor ends up getting told in cocktail parties. You know, "By the way, did you know how many, you know, kegs of beer there were on the ships that came over? I do. Can I share? Because I did all this work and I've got to put it somewhere." And there's this weird—there's this weird line between, "Look, look how thorough I am. Can I have an A+ for how thorough I am?" versus what your reader might actually be interested in. I keep some of my favorite notes from my former editor, and she's like, "Yeah, the reader... no. Reader doesn't care. Not going to care. You know, this may be really fun for you, but maybe not for your reader." So—but I can imagine with something like this, you know, the details of the flora and fauna and all that other stuff—it would be really easy to get off on tangents that are not necessary for the core mission.Nathalia HoltYes, absolutely. But in some ways it was easier than my past books, because it only takes place over a year, which is incredible. Most of my books take place over decades, and the cast of characters is much smaller as well. And unlike some of my past books, I feel like I need to include everyone out of fairness—which is kind of a weird way to approach a book. I don't recommend it. That's not the way to do things. But yeah, if you're really just looking at a few—a handful of people—over a year, it's much easier to stay on track. So that was a good exercise for me.Jess LaheyYeah, there's a—there's a line I love, where David Sedaris talks about the fact that what it takes for him to purchase something is if the clerk at the store has gone to the trouble to take it out of the case, to show it to him, and then he feels like he has to buy it because he—someone went through the trouble. And same thing for me. If, like, someone's going to go to the trouble to be interviewed, then cutting that entire interview, or cutting that whole through line, or whatever that person is a part of, is incredibly painful to do. And then I feel like—I feel obligated. So it's a difficult—it's a difficult balance, you know, between what your readers are going to actually want and what makes for a good book, versus doing right by the people who spent time talking to you. It's a hard balance to strike. Alright, speaking of being in the weeds and geek questions—so I'd love to talk to you a little bit. I was just—I'm mentoring someone for a little series we're doing for this podcast, sort of from soup to nuts, from the beginning of an—from the inception of an idea to getting a book out. And the very first thing she did was send something to me in a Pages document. And I had to say, "Hey, you might want to think about using Word or maybe Google Docs, because, like, I don't have Pages." So—some details about how you work. Number one, do you have a preferred app that you like to write in? Because I'm a Scrivener gal.Nathalia HoltI mean, I prefer Word because I feel like it is the most universal. It's the easiest to send to people... and so that's what I go with.Jess LaheyYeah, I use Scrivener only because it allows me to blank out the rest of the world really easily. Okay, and then organizing your research. This is something—the question of organizing your research, how you know you're done researching and really just need to actually start writing the words—are the two questions that I get the most. Because the research could go—especially on a topic like this—could go on forever. So number one, given this voluminous research that you had, how do you organize your research? Do you use folders on your computer? Do you use folders in—you know—how do you do all of that?Nathalia HoltI do folders on my computer, and then I also do hard copies that I actually keep organized in real folders, which helps me, because then, if I'm going into a specific topic, a lot of times it can be easier to actually hold on to those documents and being able to see them. So I do both. Um, and...Jess LaheyHas everything pretty much been digitized in this area? Do you feel like—or do you have to go into rooms and, like, actually look at paper documents, and sometimes they don't let you scan those? So, you know, how does that work for you?Nathalia Holt Yes, it's very difficult if they don't allow you to photograph them. Usually they do. Usually you can. So I have always had to digitize documents, and there's so many different ways to do it, but now it's much easier just to use your phone than anything else, which is great. Very happy about this development. And yeah, I think—I think maybe that's part of the reason why I do like to print things out is because that's how I was first introduced to the material, so it can be useful for me. But there's way too much material to print everything out. I mean, there's so many hundreds, thousands of pages even. And so it's always just going to be sort of key documents that end up making their way into the actual folders, and then the rest—it's just, you know, organized by topic. Make sure images are separate, by person.Jess LaheySo then, how do you know you're done? Like, how do you feel like you're at a place where I now know enough to come at this from—to come at the storytelling from an informed place?Nathalia HoltThat is really a good question, and I'm not sure I can answer it, because I feel like you're never done. You're always going to be researching. There's no real end to it.Jess LaheyBut you have to start. Well, and this—this takes—this is separate from the question of, like, how much research—how much research do you have to have done for the book proposal? Like take it for example, for example, The Addiction Inoculation, where I needed to learn, really, a whole new area... that was a year-long process just to write the proposal for that book, and then another couple years for the book. So, for me—and I'm very happy to say—I got to ask Michael Pollan this question, and he had the same answer that I feel like is my instinctual answer for this, which is when I start to say, "Oh, I'm starting to repeat. Things are starting to repeat for me," and/or, "Oh, I already knew that," and so I'm not finding out new stuff or encountering things I don't already know at the same rate. It's starting to sort of level off. Then I feel like, "Oh, I've got this sort of, like, you know, mile-high view of the—of the information," and I maybe have enough in my head to start actually being an expert on this thing.Nathalia HoltThat's a good answer. That sounds responsible. I'm not sure that I do that, though. I think for myself, there's not a bad time to start, because it's going to change so much anyway, that for me, I almost feel like it's part of the learning process. Is that you start to write about it, and then as you go along, you realize, "Oh, this is not right. I'm going to change all of this," but it's all just part of helping you move along. And I think even from the beginning, if you start writing even just bits and pieces of how you want to write the scene, you want to think about this or outline it, that can be helpful, and it doesn't matter, because it's all going to change anyway.Jess LaheyThat's true. I actually find I write—the way I write is very specific, in that each topic I'm going to write about in a chapter has a narrative arc, story that goes with it. So I—that narrative arc story gets written first, and then I drop the research in as I go along. But I remember, with The Gift of Failure, a book came out that had a key piece of research that then I had to go back and figure out, "Oh my gosh, this impacts everything." And so I had to figure out how to sort of drop that in. And I couldn't have done it at any other time, because the research didn't exist or I hadn't found it yet. So that's a tough thing to do, is to go back and sort of link the things to something new that you think is important. But the research part is just so much fun for me. Again, I could do that forever and ever and ever. Do you? So the other thing I wanted to ask... and this is selfishly... do you have large boxes in your home of all the research that you feel like you can't get rid of, even though you wrote the book, like, five years ago, ten years ago?Nathalia HoltI do not. I pare down.Jess LaheyYou do?!Nathalia HoltAfter time, yes. It's hard to do, though, because it's hard to throw things away, and I definitely have folders that I keep. They're just full of things that I can never get rid of. And obviously it's all digitized as well, but there are things like that that mean a lot to me, that I can't get rid of.Jess LaheyWell, there's actually—this was a very selfish question, because I actually just went through and finally got rid of a whole bunch of stuff that... I felt like it was at the heart—it was the main research for The Gift of Failure, and I used it to mulch my gardens. I put—and so it was like this metaphorical kind of, like, knowledge feeding the thing that I care about the most right now. And so I used it to mulch all the paths in my gardens and create new garden beds and stuff like that. But I'm always curious about that. Like, I every once in a while see something on, like, "X"—what used to be Twitter—or someplace like that, like, can I get rid of the research from the book I wrote 25 years ago? Or is that too soon? Well, so when exactly does the book come out? Give us your—give us your pub date.Nathalia HoltIt comes out July 1st.Jess LaheyOkay. And I have to say... cover is gorgeous. How did you land on that cover image?Nathalia HoltOh, I really didn't get much say.Jess Lahey Okay.Nathalia HoltThe one thing I—I mean, you know, they have whole people that have skills that do these things, but one thing I was very passionate about was keeping the brothers on the cover in their expedition gear. So originally, the publisher had wanted them to be in suits on the front, and I just hated it. I hated it so much, because I feel like they need to be on the trail. You need to see them as they were on the trail. And so that's one thing I really pushed for. And I was fortunate that they—they listened, and they were okay with that.Jess LaheyWell, I'm just—I mean, this book is going to have such a great place alongside books like The River of Doubt and other, you know, really wonderful books that are about the expositions—that the expeditions that get taken by these historical fixtures—figures. And I'm just—I'm so excited for this book. I'm so happy for you about this book, because it is just—when I started telling people about the topic, they're like, "Oh, I would read that." And I'm like, "I know! Isn't that the best idea?" And that's part of the magic, is coming upon the really cool idea. And so I'm just really, really happy for you and really, really happy about this book and excited for it.Nathalia HoltThank you. Oh, that's so nice to hear, especially because this was a very difficult book to get published. I mean, there was a real moment where I wasn't sure I was going to find someone that would...Jess LaheyWell, can you—I didn't want to ask it. You know, this is—having—doing a podcast like this, where we often talk about the mistakes, we talk about the blunders, we talk about the stuff that went wrong. It can be really, really hard because you don't want to bite the hand that feeds you, or you don't want to, like, make anyone think that this book wasn't anything other than a 100% lovely experience from beginning to end. But I would love to talk about that, if you're willing.Nathalia HoltOh, sure. I don't really have anything bad to say about anyone. I think it's—I think it's understandable that people wouldn't naturally think I would be the best author to write this. I haven't written other books like it, and so it was a difficult book to sell. It wasn't easy, and it definitely crystallized to me how important it was that I write it. I really felt like this was my purpose. I really wanted to write it, and maybe it's good to have that moment, because it really makes it clear that this is something you need to do, even if it's not easy, even if it's tough to find a publisher. And I was fortunate that I did. You know, luckily, there was an editor that—sort of at the last minute—believed in it enough to give it a go. And yeah, it's just—it always feels like a miracle when the book comes to fruition and is actually published. It just seems as if that could never really happen, and this one was a difficult road to get there, for sure.Jess LaheyWell, especially since a big part of the proposal process is trying to convince someone that you're the—you're the person to write this book. And in this case, it's not so much because you're a subject matter expert going into it. It's that you're a really good researcher, and you're a meticulous writer and a meticulous researcher, and most importantly, this story speaks to you. And I think, you know, some of my very favorite nonfiction books that I recommend over and over and over again—narrative nonfiction—it's clear in the reading how excited the author was about the story, and I think that's part of the magic. So I think you're the perfect person to write it. I don't know what they could have—because if you are—if you're fired up about the story... And as an English teacher, and as someone who's had to convince middle school students why they need to be excited about this thing I want to teach them, the enthusiasm of the teacher is part of what can spark the engagement for the learner. So I think that's a really, really important part of any book. Plus, you got to—you're—as an author, you're going to have to be out there talking about this thing, and so you better love the topic, because you're going to be talking about it for ages.Nathalia HoltYes, absolutely. I mean, no matter what, this is many years of your life that's dedicated to a topic. But I think it's—it's a good lesson in general, that you can write in one genre and one kind of book for years, and then it might not be easy, but it is possible to actually break out of that and find other topics and other things you want to write about. We grow. We all change.Jess LaheyYeah, one of my—one of, as our listeners will know, Sarina Bowen, one of my co-hosts and one of my best friends—she's—she has written romance forever and ever and ever, and she's like, "You know what? I want to write a thriller," and it has been a really steep learning curve and also a huge effort to sort of convince people that she can do that too. But it's also really, really satisfying when you show your chops in another area. So—and I had an—as I was going through sort of the details about this book, and reading about this book, I was thinking, you know what this would be really, really good for? An exhibit at someplace like the Field Museum, or like an exhibit of—oh my gosh, that would be incredible. Like, if this is a story that hasn't been told, and there's a lot of art, and there may be video and photographs and all—and journals—man, that would make for an amazing—if anyone out there is listening, that would make for an amazing museum exhibit, I think. And of course, everyone's listening to me.Nathalia HoltThat would be amazing.Jess LaheyEveryone is listening to me...Nathalia Holt Oh, well, they should.Jess LaheyAll right. Well, thank you so, so much. Where can people find you? And is there anything else you'd like to talk about that you're working on or that you're excited about? Besides, you know, just getting this book out into the world?Nathalia HoltYou can find me at nathaliaholt.com and on Instagram and Facebook and X @NathaliaHolt. And yeah, right now I'm pretty much focused on this book. I have something else percolating, but it's still away a good days. So it's the fun research part. Isn't that...?Jess LaheyYou will notice I did not ask you what's next, because to be asked what's next when you haven't even birthed the thing you're working on now can be a little irritating. So as someone who's aware of this inside baseball, I didn't even. Later on—privately—I would love, because I'm a big fan, big excited about your work, and love, love introducing people to your work. So I think—and also, one of the things we talk about a lot on this podcast is having books that are exemplars of good research, of good storytelling. I have a stack of books that I keep near me when I need to dissect something to get at—oh, this person did a really good job with, for example, historical research, or this person did a really good job of using their expert voice, and I need to tap into that today. I think your books are—would be excellent, excellent selections for our listeners, for their pile of exemplars for really well-done research and telling other people's stories—historical stories that occur in a sort of in a modern context. Your books are really dissectible, and I know that's super high-level geek stuff, but they've really helped me become a better storyteller as well.Nathalia HoltThank you. That's so kind of you. I really appreciate that.Jess LaheyAll right, everyone—go get the book, read the book. Don't forget to pre-order, because that really matters to us authors, and don't forget to review it wherever you purchased it, once you have read it. And Nat, thank you so much. And I apologize for calling you Natalia at the top of the hour. I'm so just so used to doing that—Nat. And until next week, everyone, keep your butt in the chair and your head in the game.The Hashtag AmWriting podcast is produced by Andrew Perella. Our intro music, aptly titled Unemployed Monday, was written and played by Max Cohen. Andrew and Max were paid for their time and their creative output—because everyone deserves to be paid for their work. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit amwriting.substack.com/subscribe

First, Ben and Celestia discuss pediatricians standing up to the CDC, a cloud-surfing Jesus in the Philippines, and needle-spiking mayhem in France. Then we have longtime friend of the podcast Susan Gerbic join us to talk about so many topics she's close to: empathy and how skeptics can approach education with respect; the big-name psychics that she's been a perpetual thorn to; the cycle some women get pulled into to act as no-name psychics with small followings; the UFO community's hate crush on her; Guerilla Skeptics of Wikipedia; skepticamps across America; and how to raise up the next generation of skeptical activists.

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Send us a textIn this episode Joël and Rick delve into the concept of faith as a journey, using the metaphor of mountain climbing. They discuss the stages of faith, highlighting the importance of spiritual awareness and the tension between comfort and growth. Listeners gain actionable insights on navigating the challenges of faith and developing a deeper relationship with God.In This Episode:00:00 Welcome Back to Malm Podcast01:00 Understanding Maturity in Faith02:30 The Concept of Waypoints04:20 The Two Halves of Faith06:40 Redefining Faith09:00 The Role of Personal Experience12:00 Tensions in Life's Questions16:00 Growth Through Discomfort19:00 The Journey of Faith

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Dr. Ned Nikolov is a Ph.D. Physical Scientist with a broad range of interests in various fields of science including climate, cosmology, astrophysics, nutrition, archaeology, and more. X: https://x.com/NikolovScience Timestamps: 00:00 Trailer 00:44 Introduction 06:21 Reevaluating CO2's climate impact 07:39 Explaining the atmosphere's thermal effect 11:00 Clouds' dominant role in radiation reflection 15:41 Decline in Albedo driving warming 18:49 Pressure's role in Earth's thermal amplification 23:50 Natural cycles and cloud formation 24:44 Cosmic rays, clouds, and climate 30:46 Geoengineering - global bioterrorism or benefit? 33:11 Climate data disputes and misleading narratives 37:58 UN's resolution on greenhouse gases 41:27 Atmospheric warming underestimation 44:04 Anonymity for fair review 46:46 Politically driven scientific paradigms 50:40 Climate science data vs. distorted reality 51:33 Where to Find Ned 53:40 Cattle and climate change misconceptions Join Revero now to regain your health: https://revero.com/YT Revero.com is an online medical clinic for treating chronic diseases with this root-cause approach of nutrition therapy. You can get access to medical providers, personalized nutrition therapy, biomarker tracking, lab testing, ongoing clinical care, and daily coaching. You will also learn everything you need with educational videos, hundreds of recipes, and articles to make this easy for you. Join the Revero team (medical providers, etc): https://revero.com/jobs ‪#Revero #ReveroHealth #shawnbaker  #Carnivorediet #MeatHeals #AnimalBased #ZeroCarb #DietCoach  #FatAdapted #Carnivore #sugarfree Disclaimer: The content on this channel is not medical advice. Please consult your healthcare provider.

Kilroy‑Sized Show Notes | Head‑ON with Roxanne Kincaid — July  1, 2025 (4,000‑character carnival ride, safely under Apple's big top)

This show was inspired by a very thoughtful question from a college-aged listener named Justin who wanted to know what my current training regimen is like, and if I believe zone two training is really necessary, if VO two max workouts are really necessary, and if I think he should just take up a sprinting regimen (since the sprinters seem to look the best and be the healthiest)? Thanks, Justin, for teeing me up—I thought his questions would make an interesting show and update on my current fitness routine, and in this show, I explain everything I am doing and why. You will hear my number 1 recommendation (extricating yourself from that extreme exhausting endurance training program so that you have some energy to pursue fitness goals and longevity properly), why I believe aging gracefully depends far more on maintaining explosive power than grinding out long cardio sessions, and why your 400-meter time might be one of the most telling longevity markers. I explain how aging affects the anaerobic system and why preserving fast-twitch muscle fibers is critical for staying strong and functional—especially as we get older. I challenge popular ideas around zone two and VO₂ max training, and make the case for true sprinting (not HIIT or steady-state cardio) as the most efficient and powerful intervention for fitness, fat loss, and longevity. I walk through my exact training regimen, from my morning mobility routine to high jump drills, strength sessions, and sprint workouts—highlighting how I structure my week around short, explosive efforts, long rest periods, and intuitive decision-making rather than weekly mileage. Whether you’re 21 like Justin or well into your 60s, this episode offers practical insights for anyone looking to train smarter, avoid burnout, and build lifelong athleticism. TIMESTAMPS: The first step is to extricate yourself from that extreme exhausting endurance training program so that you have some energy to pursue fitness goals and longevity properly. [01:01] Looking at Brad's current training regimen, we learn the benefits of maintaining that anaerobic conditioning, that explosive power in terms of longevity and a well-balanced regimen. [05:49] The Cactus to Clouds hike is an example of Brad's performance of a 15-hour hike after he had no endurance training to prepare. [09:03] The experts are now strongly concurring that preserving functional muscle strength and power and explosiveness and muscle mass is the single key to longevity. [12:41] The fast twitch muscle fibers decline much more quickly and significantly than the type one endurance fibers. [15:01] Falling is a huge risk factor as we age. It is very important to remain strong. [18:58] Brad has switched from a lifelong endurance emphasis to recalibrating his mentality to appreciate stress and rest. [19:56] If you drift beyond the fat max heart rate, you are inviting the opposite of your desired benefits from exercise. [24:56] Kipchoge practices at about 83% of his weekly mileage in zone one. [27:15] Now that Brad has hit the 60-year-old mark, how does he train? Brad's morning exercise pattern has changed a bit over the years, since he also has to prepare for his sprint workouts. [29:13] Go barefoot as often as possible to regain the best foot functionality. [31:54] Through trial and error, Brad has discovered that a high-intensity day followed by two easy days in a row, really works for him. [40:02] It's not about burning calories through strenuous exercise, but rather fat reduction is about hormone optimization. [44:12] The sprint workout always begins with extensive warmup and preparatory drills. [46:44] Strength training is when you calculate 85% of your best time. You don't want to overdo it just to make it, you really want to feel it and feel like you're working hard. [54:52] In the high jump practice, Brad does a variety of drills. [01:01:36] After your tough workout you can bring back your parasympathetic system by lying down, resting, elevating your feet, and doing some nasal breathing. [01:03:22] In the book, Body by Science, there is listed the Big Five exercise protocol. They are the Chest Press, Overhead Press, the Lat-Pull-down, the Seated row, and the Leg Press. [01:05:16] The ways Brad uses CORDZ vary and there is little chance for muscle soreness compared to lifting weights. [01:09:38] Keep your exercise things in plain sight around to entice you and remind you to take a few minutes to use them. [01:10:32] Rest and recovery days was the third step to Brad's routine. This includes two full days after high intensity sprinting or high jumping sessions. [01:13:42] Sometimes the tendons fool you when they become inflamed. [01:17:49] Try to build a habit of blocking out a time of day for your training. [01:21:25] Brad's diet is focused on meat and fruit. [ 01:23:10] De-emphasize your devotion to steady-state cardio. [01:26:18] LINKS: Brad Kearns.com BradNutrition.com B.rad Whey Protein Superfuel - The Best Protein on The Planet! Brad’s Shopping Page BornToWalkBook.com B.rad Podcast – All Episodes Peluva Five-Toe Minimalist Shoes Cactus to Clouds Hike The Outlive Developing the Morning Routine Walk in Peluvas to Prevent Running Injury Podcast with Lion Martinez Brad's Complete High Jumping Technique Podcast with Dr, Jannine Kraus Body by Science We appreciate all feedback, and questions for Q&A shows, emailed to podcast@bradventures.com. If you have a moment, please share an episode you like with a quick text message, or leave a review on your podcast app. Thank you! Check out each of these companies because they are absolutely awesome or they wouldn’t occupy this revered space. Seriously, I won’t promote anything that I don't absolutely love and use in daily life: B.rad Nutrition: Premium quality, all-natural supplements for peak performance, recovery, and longevity; including the world's highest quality whey protein! Peluva: Comfortable, functional, stylish five-toe minimalist shoe to reawaken optimal foot function. Use code BRADPODCAST for 15% off! Ketone-IQ Save 30% off your first subscription order & receive a free six-pack of Ketone-IQ! Get Stride: Advanced DNA, methylation profile, microbiome & blood at-home testing. Hit your stride the right way, with cutting-edge technology and customized programming. Save 10% with the code BRAD. Mito Red Light: Photobiomodulation light panels to enhance cellular energy production, improve recovery, and optimize circadian rhythm. Use code BRAD for 5% discount! Online educational courses: Numerous great offerings for an immersive home-study educational experience Primal Fitness Expert Certification: The most comprehensive online course on all aspects of traditional fitness programming and a total immersion fitness lifestyle. Save 25% on tuition with code BRAD! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Tonight's guest joins us from Bonn, Germany — and from the far side of the clock, where it's 2 a.m. local time! Lars Lowinski is a seasoned meteorologist with international experience spanning Europe and New Zealand. He now works with WetterOnline, one of Europe's largest weather platforms, where he connects their U.S. business operations with German-based product development and training. He's also an avid storm chaser who's pursued Great Plains supercells and participated in the Hazardous Weather Testbed in Norman, Oklahoma. Lars has been a loyal WeatherBrains listener since 2008 — and we're thrilled to finally have him on the show!  Thanks for joining us tonight. Our email officer Jen is continuing to handle the incoming messages from our listeners. Reach us here: email@weatherbrains.com. Is tornado season over?  (02:30) Forecasting in the Southern Hemisphere and working with oil and gas industry (17:50) Compare/Contrast experiences in NOAA Hazardous Weather Testbed (20:00) Importance of doing a thorough hand analysis before utilizing model data when assimilating forecasts (21:00) Discussing the European Severe Storms Laboratory (23:00) Importance of working together internationally/globally when communicating severe weather risks (28:00) Breaking down barriers in the science of meteorology through simple human interaction (35:00) Approaches/challenges in weather messaging across different cultures and languages across the world (35:30) Looking back at Lars's storm chasing experiences (45:30) Discussion of deadly July 1916 Austria tornado and it's experiences lost in history due to World War One (55:00) European severe weather warning process vs U.S. severe weather warning process (57:45) Weather-aware subculture in the United States (01:13:00) Rise of Digital Meteorologists (01:16:00) NWS budget update/analysis (01:29:30) The Astronomy Outlook with Tony Rice (01:26:20) This Week in Tornado History With Jen (01:28:00) E-Mail Segment (No segment this week) and more! Web Sites from Episode 1015: Lars Lowinski Photography Picks of the Week: Lars Lowinski - Monster HP supercell in France (06/13/2025) James Aydelott - James Aydelott on Facebook: Three feet of rain in Tulsa, OK since January 1st/Wettest April 1-June 30 on record in Tulsa (Back to 1931) Jen Narramore - Lightning strike injures 2 at Northland HS soccer field in Columbus Rick Smith - Out Troy Kimmel - Out Kim Klockow-McClain - Earth's Clouds on the Move John Gordon - Kyle J Gillett on X: Panhandle, TX boundary collision John Gordon - Ronca-HohnWx on X: Memphis, TN boundary collision Bill Murray - Out James Spann - June 28th, 2025 Deuel County, South Dakota tornado The WeatherBrains crew includes your host, James Spann, plus other notable geeks like Troy Kimmel, Bill Murray, Rick Smith, James Aydelott, Jen Narramore, John Gordon, and Dr. Kim Klockow-McClain. They bring together a wealth of weather knowledge and experience for another fascinating podcast about weather.

In a great talk, Ryan shares his photography experience, rescue trauma, as well as the book he recently published about the most significant cave in his vast caving life, and why now was the time to do it.Order a custom cave suit from our sponsor, Sophireaptress!https://www.sophireaptress.com/Order “Caverns in The Clouds” by Ryan Maurerhttps://www.underarockphoto.com/2026 NSS Convention Promo Videohttps://youtu.be/9hQ2K-XREqY?si=hMwiNpXafTbP2JNONSS Calendar of Eventshttps://caves.org/calendar/Find your local grotto!https://caves.org/committee/i-o/grottos/new_grotto_page-v2.shtml

It was a quiet evening in Mesa, Arizona, January 2, 1999. Eleven-year-old Mikelle Biggs was just waiting outside her home for the sound of the ice cream truck. But in the span of just ninety seconds, she vanished without a trace. Her bicycle was left behind, one of the wheels still spinning. For more than two decades, Mikelle's case has haunted the community, raising more questions than answers. In this episode, we revisit the day she disappeared, explore the leads, and examine the eerie silence that followed one of Arizona's most heartbreaking mysteries. 11-year-old Mikelle Biggs was last seen on the evening of January 2nd, 1999, outside of her home in Mesa, Arizona. At that time, she was 4'8” tall and weighed approximately 65lbs. She has hazel eyes and naturally sandy colored hair. She was last seen wearing a red, short-sleeved shirt with a white stripe across the chest, blue bell-bottom-style jeans with designs on the sides, and a purple Barbie watch. Anyone with information is asked to call the Mesa Police Department at 480-644-2211. For more information about the podcast and the cases discussed, visit ⁠⁠⁠VoicesforJusticePodcast.com⁠⁠⁠   Follow us on social media: Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠@VoicesforJusticePodcast⁠⁠⁠   Voices for Justice is hosted by Sarah Turney Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠@SarahETurney⁠⁠⁠ YouTube: ⁠⁠⁠@SarahTurney⁠⁠⁠   The introduction music used in Voices for Justice is Thread of Clouds by Blue Dot Sessions. Outro music is Melancholic Ending by Soft and Furious. The track used for ad transitions is Pinky by Blue Dot Sessions. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices