Podcasts about Compliments

In this episode of the Ordinary Christian Podcast, Craig Thompson interviews Chris Grainger, the host of The Lion Within Us. Chris shares his journey of starting a men's ministry, the importance of spiritual leadership, and how he uses his secular career to impact others for Christ. He discusses the challenges he faced, including personal struggles and the significance of encouragement in relationships. The conversation emphasizes the need for authenticity in faith and the role of community in spiritual growth.TakeawaysChris Grainger emphasizes the importance of being a spiritual leader in the home.Encouragement from others can significantly impact one's journey.Breaking his ankle led to unexpected spiritual growth for Chris.Men's ministry is crucial for helping men navigate their faith.The Bible app offers valuable resources for men seeking spiritual guidance.Authenticity in faith is essential for effective ministry.Language and communication style can reflect one's faith.Physical challenges can lead to deeper spiritual insights.Community support is vital for personal growth and accountability.Every individual has the potential to make an impact in their sphere of influence.TitlesUnleashing Your Inner Lion: Chris Grainger's JourneyThe Power of Encouragement in Men's MinistryChapters00:00Introduction to Chris Grainger and His Mission03:06The Birth of The Lion Within Us06:09Utilizing the Bible App for Men's Ministry09:03The Impact of Writing and Publishing11:51Encouragement and Its Power15:13The Importance of Affirmation in Relationships22:07The Power of Compliments in Relationships24:25Lessons from Physical Challenges30:00Finding Ministry in Secular Work41:04Embracing Spiritual Leadership at Home

Compliments of the Season 2025

Merry Christmas everyone! This is an episode unlike any other in the ESP history, hope you will enjoy it!See you again in 2026!Segments:0:00:27 INTRO0:00:50 GREETINGS0:05:11 FACT CHECKERS0:08:39 REASON TELLS0:12:11 FAREWELL0:14:11 OUTRO Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Etiquette, manners, and beyond! This week, Nick and Leah are enjoying a well-deserved break, but they'll be back soon with an all-new episode. In the meantime, here's one of their favorite episodes from the archives in which they tackle watching Kalle Anka in Sweden, receiving compliments, bringing your own empty food containers to restaurants, and much more. Please follow us! (We'd send you a hand-written thank you note if we could.)Have a question for us? Call or text (267) CALL-RBW or visit ask.wyrbw.comEPISODE CONTENTSAMUSE-BOUCHE: Kalle AnkaA QUESTION OF ETIQUETTE: Receiving complimentsQUESTIONS FROM THE WILDERNESS: Is it OK to bring your own empty food container to a restaurant for leftovers? Bonkers: Abandoned by hosts at cocktail hourVENT OR REPENT: Confused by airplane seat assignments, Being asked your weightCORDIALS OF KINDNESS: Thanks to a fan, Thanks for attending our live showTHINGS MENTIONED DURING THE SHOW"From All of Us to All of You" on Wikipedia"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" official trailerMarshallsYOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO...Support our show through PatreonSubscribe and rate us 5 stars on Apple PodcastsCall, text, or email us your questionsFollow us on Instagram, Facebook, and TwitterVisit our official websiteSign up for our newsletterBuy some fabulous official merchandiseCREDITSHosts: Nick Leighton & Leah BonnemaProducer & Editor: Nick LeightonTheme Music: Rob ParavonianADVERTISE ON OUR SHOWClick here for detailsTRANSCRIPTEpisode 208See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Can "The Man With The Twisted Lip" be done as a Christmas story? We're finding out thanks to Sherlock & Co. And who wrote the worst Christmas story ever, teaching kids about explosives, and what does he have to do with Watson? Compliments of the season, Watsoniacs!

durée : 00:00:59 - Compliments ! Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

Laurence Holmes and Anthony Herron opened their show by listening and reacting to Packers head coach Matt LaFleur heap praise on Bears head coach Ben Johnson. After that, they discussed Bears linebacker D'Marco Jackson being named the NFC Defensive Player of the Week.

learn top 10 compliments you always want to hear

Laurence Holmes and Anthony Herron listened and reacted to Packers head coach Matt LaFleur heap praise on Bears head coach Ben Johnson.

Sharing your faith doesn’t have to be difficult. Just start with simple, loving conversations! By being approachable, joyful, and attentive, we let the Holy Spirit guide us in each moment. Learn more about how loving on people—and asking caring questions—turn daily encounters into life-igniting opportunities.Host Barry Meguiar is a car guy and businessman who hosted the popular TV show, Car Crazy, on Discovery Networks for 18 years. He loves cars, but he loves Jesus even more! Learn more about Barry at IgniteAmerica.comFind out how to get this month’s faith-sharing gift at https://go.rotw.com/MonthlyOffer Get your copy of Barry’s book Ignite Your Life: Defeat Fear with Effortless Faith at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million, and other online booksellers. Learn more about: -        Why obedience matters when sharing the Gospel-        How we can work God into any conversation-        Why 80% of Americans are looking for God-        When we can use humor to share God’s message-        How the Holy Spirit gives us a voiceCheck out Why Share? on IgniteAmerica.com to learn why it is important for every believer to share their faith. Then visit First Steps which provides practical ways to get started in your faith-sharing journey. Sign up to receive emails that will bring you solid faith-sharing tips and powerful inspiration.(00:00) Full-time ministry mindset(04:53) Compliments open doors(08:10) Everyday opportunities(12:23) Igniting a lifestyle

Compliments of the season to you from the At The Flicks crew. If you are like us, then you will be watching at least one James Bond film this Christmas.  Goldfinger, You Only Live Twice and Live And Let Die are choices very popular with this team.  All classics. However, with James Bond somewhat cold at present and Amazon seemingly muddling through with the franchise, we have to ask the question – is the age of James Bond as we know it, over? And that is the subject of the At The Flicks Christmas lecture for this year.  It's a weighty subject, so we have to call on an expert to help address this question.  Bond fan Niall Browne from Movies In Focus joins Jeff and Graham to discuss how did we get here and Amazon's current handling of the James Bond legacy (clue, it's not off to a good start). Of course, a screenwriter and director have been allocated to a new Bond project.  We talk about both and assess if they are the right people for the job or is Amazon “front loading” with talent over ideas? Being life long James Bond aficionados, we also offer some advice on what could or should be next for the superspy – that is, we talk about what we would like to see. Also, we consider the right attributes for the next actor to play James Bond, and of course, like everyone else, we throw in some names. Some of which may be controversial. So, before you settle down with your Christmas Pud (British reference there) to watch Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan or Daniel Craig, why not give us a listen? And if you have ideas about Bond which are not being talked about, please let us know for a possible future follow up show as I am sure the James Bond story is going to change a lot during 2026. Until then, have a great Christmas. We will be back at year's end to share our top films of the year with you. Links Goldfinger Trailer

In a ceremony, the Ministry of Health, Wellness and Elderly Affairs was officially handed a mobile dental clinic from the Rotary Club of St. Lucia, which is expected to meet the dental treatment needs of youth across various primary schools. A fully equipped, air conditioned mobile dental unit was provided to offer high-quality dental services of early dental screenings, preventive treatment and oral health education to children. The mobile dental clinic was made possible through the Rotary Club of St. Lucia and several local sponsors which include Massy Stores, Lucelec and M&C Drugstore. The mobile dental clinic, valued at EC $300,000 will stand as a beacon of hope for closing the gap in expanding dental health services to children. 

Phil and Nick return with the podcast, to talk about victory for Alfie Burden in the Shoot Out in Blackpool and look ahead to the Scottish Open in Edinburgh. Compliments of the season everyone. Remember, we have Neal Foulds joining us in January to preview the Masters. Any questions for Neal - or indeed correspondence on any snooker issue - would be most welcome. Tweet us @TalkingSnooker or email talkingsnooker@yahoo.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Turns out we all do the same thing when dating! Join Intern John, Sos, and Rose as we talk about the not-so-new dating trend Gen-Z is bringing back and more! Make sure to also keep up to date with ALL of our podcasts we do below that have new episodes every week: The Thought Shower Let's Get Weird Crisis on Infinite Podcasts See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Deana from KUO talks about event, complaints, compliments, tree safety, weather and xmas traditionsSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Not even a wisper of collision penetrates explicitly this inclusion; Segmented and represented this disarray of miserable approval, And, abject, Or i object, I guess To that which is to say Today is in between the ordinary and disarray, To make arrangements; A solemn display of effect and intent of regression, And yet without all clear disrespect to port or establishment; Still here are there words and where there was love, no more— none for her but then around, within arousal stands as that, to which has since been lost, If not to time, another concept thus by force unknown, to with and withstand habitat for circumstantial evidence of coincidence, But yet arbitrary and then dismayed for short or arc, There this, no more her words for flower, more of words to thus embark. Still time, Very well, my breath, for I have opened a foreign chapter— Then with the way you say, you wore our out, In time you are uncovered for her drugs and left to smuggle over-under— Therefore when that said time has come, you know to form the drift to wait, And yet lack still this patience I have tamed you many acres since the ancients fell upon there ails; There pitting since sunk and crucial to this, and our time is not lost nor won, disheveled making prayers for sense and dollar signs; No have no more barren chest and thought of songs, much less a found the words for songs as though my love has crept upon the rock, That dusk and dawn, the ocean licks with parched tongue. Scare her dry and feast and fragile and evidence remained as these as words and thoughts, The truths would tell the tale for every way. With each drift scattered mark, upon those boats with sails above known not as white but also many colors of the brethren cut from clothes of all apart and none of one, for this, her maritime. {Enter The Multiverse} I opened right to Debbie downer; I got medicine for your habit (I got the remedy in the form of a secret, But the misery is in keeping it) I got a kind heart, I did some mai tai, Should have learned some thai chi As if I took some matcha Or chai tea Caffeine Adrenaline I got a kind heart Adderall instead of Ritalin Entry level access Salary yellow fashion, Intercept, invest Inception, redirect Service elevator, eh; She don't live here no more But where she is? Couldn't tell you. What's the story On a ten star war. No more Harvard, Purple hearted general, General admission to a festival? Just miss me that that bullshit. For your pleasure, Every crevice just has pressure in it— Now I get it I hypnotized myself, I guess The ribbon Blue belt I should be cleaning instead of half sleeping; I keep explaining myself thinking somebody can hear me When they obviously can't. I've been screaming silently for seven seconds, Several years I think on other planets Pull your hair back in a bun And then you'll learn, I guess I passed out cold upon the stand That was the plan, I guess Much slower to close than to open, Although, I know I pop-button broke the code before But still no low moral summoning (Sorry, product) Still no low road or mud throwing No more home She's 32 and 3 months older But looks much longer And harder, tired Must have body or Motive Must have body Or bad intentions Take a man, and write a book about it Take a man, and write a book about it I call that a thirst trap I call that a thirst trap. She must no longer Prim and proper But the work is never over, Show us all the roots, and know the knowledge But don't talk or comment on it I was “almost” once And I was honest twice Three times, you're a liar Mister, honor, pleasure, Fisher wife And never leather, Tipping tethered, Tied to rock and kite And lock and key For here and there Forbearance, rather Here for never ever after Amen and then some L E G E N D S I told you Jimmy Fallon was a Skrillex. I know. What's worse: Skrillex is a Jimmy Fallon. Oh, that is worse. yO iT iS pRoGrEsSiVeLy WOrSE: Is this what you wanted? The awful destruction of constructs— Click, boom— Knife, gun, Add an axe, Bind the axel, Excellent, Put the prejudice inside your head ahead (We brought it back) Put the Edipus complex To this effect Upon a platter Silver as the gun at stake, And raise the hand that shouldn't matter After that? You won. Four tries; Six goons, Four Gods, One white ther I have Two white coats and misters, hot coals Dark fires, have ones, Six mazes, one center On your mark “The Dark Forest” Ugh I hate this one, Get set Don't forget, we all died here. We all crisis, We all Christ. Goosebumps, right? Gimmie that kite! You dumb son of a bitch! GO! Check it out! I look like Kim Kardashian. But you smell like Kim Chi. Yooo that joke took me like 2 months to write down! I know huh! [The Festival Project ™] I looked for something on Hulu to watch for so long that I almost ate my entire dinner without clicking on something. Finally, I find something that interests me, which is just a graphic of a television set and some color palette by now that is somewhat of a calling card for me. So I get there, And it is of interests, And yet of course the unexplainable anomaly of this, is that, no matter how far I try to run l He just keeps coming back. ‘Like this is crazy.' I never found myself agreeing with Louis C.K. about anything at all, and personally and particularly, I never found him funny, until, that was the sudden realization that the same array of betrayal, anger, and agony fueled by rage and jealousy had taken over he and I and many others probably, when introduced to the possibility of having to share the same reality with a head of hair and a face like that. I might have mustered a “my sentiments exactly” though silently before taking in to my own wonder and amazement that twice in one week, besides skipping over the algorithmic traps in my sidebar which I treated like little land mines or time bombs, but mostly allotted to my own Internet history of my uninhabited viewing, as it seemed I'd been most preoccupied in rerouting this energy into a fascination with TV programming, giving me the satiety for the comfort and familiarity in something; and I was with some some kind of certainty I knew alluded to the old adage of mother knowing everything. Even if everything hadn't happened yet, actually, or maybe it had. This strange sort of desire however was some sort of weakness, with the ability to have a fixation for a desire without any way of actually getting it. As she used to say. “Having champagne taste, but beer money.” [so I avoid it because it makes me angry.] Sometimes even, tearfully angry, and it made me feel so uncontrollably adolescent that I would have equated it to the hysteria of beetlemania; screaming and clawing and aching and chasing for this being that was so notably out of reach. Worse off, I'd realized in this running from what seemed was chasing me was how common I was in this feeling, [] To my demise. In this sense, the safety of this entire being and any alike, was that I could seek logic in my jealousy by rationalizing not attaching to a certain subject sexually or otherwise. But this basis in the contempt of familiarity was really rather irritating, in that it seemed as simple as having an awareness of this seeing all the time, to the point that I became a subconscious aching for [something], blossoming into the actual conscious awareness out of the repressive need for something I no longer had and always wanted: [The Festival Project ™] And for for this, I considered it a sort of sickness that I couldn't seem to tear away from it, but also something that had happened very naturally, and now had unearthed an entire cavern of secrets I could be found no where writing or even very rarely thinking them. Thoughts or ideas worth protecting and the kind of code that goes about saying nothing, looking the other way, keeping your mouth shut and hiding or guarding with your life. But media, or the eye that seems to see all lately had been poking at it, maybe because I wasn't. Maybe because I spent an hour at a time four day a week with [a less than separate set of characters] —or big brother, if you will, in a safe and respectable distance and admiration [] Where I could at a certain pace study this sort of programming without anything having to be reflective of the life I wasn't living— the sex I wasn't having. Watching the ABC version of late night programming was allowing me to focus on the other things I needed— being very skinny, and crossing one leg over the other and sitting pretty; while also showing me another side of a suit and tie that was interesting— The ability to be invisible, and also say many things without talking, for anyone paying attention to the complex series of things very often overlooked by a normal onlooker or audience, Which I was, and wasn't— because I was looking for something. The mind boggling thing to me was, by watching, I was actually finding it. [The Festival Project ™] —Death of a Superstar DJ As Seen on TV The Television People “Puzzle Pieces” I don't want anything I don't want anyone Conflated circumstance Oh, it was was just a nut— Got it and now it's gone Pulled it all off at the thought It was Thunderous But now I got it together I don't want anyone Especially not a poor boy No I'm not alone, boy I got my kitty Pet the cat and love my pussy, So it's really not a mystery I don't need him, or anybody really Miss me with that shit That's a pretty promise and a big redaction Deadass I stepped into my ballet shoe And onto shards of glass I guess that's on pointe But off topic Co-ed saunabody shopping I show up at Equinox But only when I want (On proxy) I protect my heart (On God) I don't want nobody really. One one-off on Wall Street, brother Don't bother calling back Don't got my number, Not a problem Not my name Or my address Cause if you did You'd be depressed like I am. Now we're getting dressed You take a cab I take the train Just another day of training But my life. Is steady draining There's no use in even explaining myself I guess I'm selfish Like dental floss for Christmas Or shellfish for the kitty But for me just friuits and veggies You don't notice? I love nobody, Cause nobody could love me Now I'm over it Now I'm over it Now I'm over it But you know the cost I was nothing Now I want Nothing Nobody love me I don't want nobody, No I'm not sorry How they're swarming on my GPS location With these second rate bit glitches I stay sleeping in my kitch But I'll never rest, I guess Until theirs justice Said that. {Enter The Multiverse} Excerpt: The Television People (TVP) Season 4 © The Complex Collevtivd [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights Reserved REGINALD Would you kill your prostitute for one million dollars? PATRICK Why would you ask me that? REGINALD That's an odd answer. I'd expect your response to be somewhere along the lines of denial of— ever having a prostitute. PATRICK I'm a talk show host. REGINALD Is that supposed to mean something? PATRICK There are certain societal assumptions. REGINALD Do you find yourself—befitting to any of those stereotypes? PATRICK I don't find myself “befitting” at all. REGINALD You know, local [charters of our office] — (But Patrick speaks quickly and with dominance to cut him off.) PATRICK Now that I know what you are— REGINALD You mean “who”? PATRICK I mean “what”; why make and owl's cry in response to a dog's bark? [a realization between the both of them is immidiately found; this sort of language has implied they are belonging to the same branch of THE EYE which acts above the law; it is a fair fight— and now they this phrase has been established, there are now rules written or unspoken which can be applied here.] REGINALD cocks his head and forces an awkward smirk. REGINALD Very well. I am quite the trouble maker; I am mischief, I am danger, I am Chaos, I am leveled I am honored, I am damned I am also coming making day of peace and hallowed are you; I am also coming waves of needing peace to which I bound to. So sparrow coming grace and peace and giving, Made and tied, Though had you not the ever presence or the record for the time, So then you too shall wander, mercilessly to and fro and all about, And here and there but never where my value has been gathered. So for that, the dust is set, And said and twisted, never making bread for peace And dead for death, and craving this, to set of force her Having made my honor there, and lying in the wit and willow, weathered veins and weathervane, And twisting wind of fate and fortune. So, my mind and tressure buried there for gains and white, her shadow Barren in the east, and in the west her mortuary; Seeking sane and crypt but tied and kept for thithered foust and fouling, Butter turned to brittle, May, September, Then another serpent— More to moulf and wept her slated dream for keeping broken bear in, There the wake had frozen into lake and also leather boxes, For what will of what I am and is her fare not wearing any; Though the mister winds of east and west had set her onward any. Lemons and limes, though— Taking my time, soured Never with water, sugar But chest without pride; There in the wake marked and marched o. Her army, Not to yawn or buyoer billow, Porridge feathered, Cream and none for part her hunger There though, then were the marks And the found of the wicked past; Ties there and fire would have her mark upon the dungeon throne, Weeping here though on the floor for flour Every hour passed as I, come creeping with the forest feathered, dimmed the basket having cut from tethered grass, I. And now we wait though them, here, The marshmellow and willow not having woken, Though Monday, for total control of her honor, Contorted. Then came, seeking guild and weight and force, The fear and wind though wish to pull apart the storm had gathered, fell apart itself, Though sit not back and then became as strong, a pebble which from dust became an avalanche at once, through windows past, I— Marked one forest, and one warm summer, And one forest, and good quilt, did slither, and then making in the forest, I, for did I run As yet to suffer also. Yo where the fuck am I going. Alright, airtight we want and something foraged from nothing in her name, And this the time that tells itself for life and health In other ways besides your own. Don't cough. For those who either suffering or lost know of your forces and so sure does come the rock that turned from stone in forests over, So you sure too shall come another, Poor and hurt but soon to suffer, Also. tisk- tisk The risk my friends is running wise, The coyotes running wild for find that lone and feathered friend, To which has flight with all the know that he, and friends are feasts of foe and so these might and waves of time are sure to grow into another. Right on. So I write on and then, the missed and uninformed becomes again the death I recommended. Ten till ten tales and also please give, and whistle whalfolks under our time which has lost mine and all others. So tempted there come gathered, weeping Feathers at her slaughtered as palms, Weight beyond the brow and below the belt to which that called her— Devil's mate and crater for the fate but fame at heart earned, casting shadows over which has lost its appetite, for now becalmed her hunger. Her hunger. Her hunger. REGINALD's tone changes entirely— if at first it may have been a playful game (and it wasn't) now it is serious— crucial, even. REGINALD Why did you do it? PATRICK I wouldn't do something like that… REGINALD —something like what? PATRICK realizes quickly he's been playing over in his mind that has not yet fully been realized on the surface of the conversation— it was an honest answer, but still implicit, and so in this moment of self awareness and realization, also of stunning showman and marksmanship, a certain light comes on as if the camera has been directed at him; his entire mask comes on at once, and no longer can the reminisce of an honest thought be detected. He has become a wall. PATRICK To follow up on your first question. Which was odd— REGINALD About killing your prostitute. (He means to intimidate, but PATRICK is a stone.) PATRICK You must not watch my show at all. REGINALD takes a moment to collect himself, with even just the slightest and temporary glimpse of fear in that he may have met his mental match, and has already lost the fight, also collecting his briefcase before he I told you no more trains. At the risk of sounding obnoxious, I've started ignoring all the voices in my head— Even though they're always right. fuck! REGINALD pauses, takes a deep breath while opening the door before looking back over his shoulder. REGINALD I must not. He walks out and immediately slams the door behind him. PATRICK, as if still in the eye of the camera remains calm, although, just the glimmer of fire in his eyes reflect the battle has yet been won. But as we all know by now, He will win the fight. The television people, season four I can't stand these fuckin hoes; Two days off in your hole Offers you a whole new perspective Of your own God complex; You're better off alone, Dead, Or on prescription medicines For all those thoughts in your head Like the bullet holes left from the gun That is poor and alone And just not having money. Confidence lost with a look, And you're sure you just should have gone come But the court office closes its doors at 4:30 And you've been done wrong Four long lost lovers over, It not about that, but motorcycles It's not about reps, It's about cycles I'm one our Peloton down And a whole world to go While you morons just on and on Won't stop talking Here's to disturbing your peace at the equinox And anywhere else you rest your rotten core, You dirty who're— What's it costs for love? Not a whole lot, Don't you see that I'm struggled in Brooklyn? Fuck this whole raw sewage garbage bucket If I gargle hard enough I'll just throw up But you push all the bottles and straws to the end of the curb And the colored sand blacks to the outskirts So we work harder It's a ocean of no But you know not what it does not to know me So below your own suffering goes the call of the crow just before dawn Mx To drop out Cool I don't want to be here I just want a surfboard Apparently it's your year But I'd slit my wrists for Harvard Yeah, it is— that kind of hurt Yes, it is that kind of pain The corvette stole your very favorite colors And your name That sort of wickedness, Just before it ends The candles flickers and the winter's coming in atop the l marble kitchen counters All right, all yours Patched up, or in the poorhouse Compliments to the chef, of course, compliments to the chef. Gotta go to the court house Of course cause I'm black So it's automatically implied I just don't work hard enough Or just ain't made the cut My momma was a dancer, not an athlete My momma made me fat and now I can't do that either If I'm the other black girl In a room full of white men I automatically become “The ugly one” So then I'm off. What's the point of coming here? A black book? A black box? Try to run me off out of the equinox on Walter Well done. I should not have wrote about it Lil bitz My son accused me of being in the Illuminati. He's 9. How do you even respond to that? I love my son, He's like really, really… fat. It's okay— I kinda like it; he's fat, I used to be fat; So we talk about fat people shit. Like McDonald's. And ham. lol This lady on the subway leaned on my hand on the pole. And I mean like really leaned into it, With her whole body weight. I just came from the gym, I been up all night, And she like— Leaned. Like, you know I didn't say shit, I just let it happen, But inside I'm like, WHY ARE YOU TOUCHHING MEEEEEEEEE?!!?!? WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME?! This train is not full. I don't think you understand. I just came out the steam room. I am the equivalent of fresh and pressed. Then she's just gon Leeeean. FUCK THAT. STOP TOUCHING MEEEEE. but like irl I'm just standing there like, No protest. Inside: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! STOP IT! Outside: [nothing] Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Not even a wisper of collision penetrates explicitly this inclusion; Segmented and represented this disarray of miserable approval, And, abject, Or i object, I guess To that which is to say Today is in between the ordinary and disarray, To make arrangements; A solemn display of effect and intent of regression, And yet without all clear disrespect to port or establishment; Still here are there words and where there was love, no more— none for her but then around, within arousal stands as that, to which has since been lost, If not to time, another concept thus by force unknown, to with and withstand habitat for circumstantial evidence of coincidence, But yet arbitrary and then dismayed for short or arc, There this, no more her words for flower, more of words to thus embark. Still time, Very well, my breath, for I have opened a foreign chapter— Then with the way you say, you wore our out, In time you are uncovered for her drugs and left to smuggle over-under— Therefore when that said time has come, you know to form the drift to wait, And yet lack still this patience I have tamed you many acres since the ancients fell upon there ails; There pitting since sunk and crucial to this, and our time is not lost nor won, disheveled making prayers for sense and dollar signs; No have no more barren chest and thought of songs, much less a found the words for songs as though my love has crept upon the rock, That dusk and dawn, the ocean licks with parched tongue. Scare her dry and feast and fragile and evidence remained as these as words and thoughts, The truths would tell the tale for every way. With each drift scattered mark, upon those boats with sails above known not as white but also many colors of the brethren cut from clothes of all apart and none of one, for this, her maritime. {Enter The Multiverse} I opened right to Debbie downer; I got medicine for your habit (I got the remedy in the form of a secret, But the misery is in keeping it) I got a kind heart, I did some mai tai, Should have learned some thai chi As if I took some matcha Or chai tea Caffeine Adrenaline I got a kind heart Adderall instead of Ritalin Entry level access Salary yellow fashion, Intercept, invest Inception, redirect Service elevator, eh; She don't live here no more But where she is? Couldn't tell you. What's the story On a ten star war. No more Harvard, Purple hearted general, General admission to a festival? Just miss me that that bullshit. For your pleasure, Every crevice just has pressure in it— Now I get it I hypnotized myself, I guess The ribbon Blue belt I should be cleaning instead of half sleeping; I keep explaining myself thinking somebody can hear me When they obviously can't. I've been screaming silently for seven seconds, Several years I think on other planets Pull your hair back in a bun And then you'll learn, I guess I passed out cold upon the stand That was the plan, I guess Much slower to close than to open, Although, I know I pop-button broke the code before But still no low moral summoning (Sorry, product) Still no low road or mud throwing No more home She's 32 and 3 months older But looks much longer And harder, tired Must have body or Motive Must have body Or bad intentions Take a man, and write a book about it Take a man, and write a book about it I call that a thirst trap I call that a thirst trap. She must no longer Prim and proper But the work is never over, Show us all the roots, and know the knowledge But don't talk or comment on it I was “almost” once And I was honest twice Three times, you're a liar Mister, honor, pleasure, Fisher wife And never leather, Tipping tethered, Tied to rock and kite And lock and key For here and there Forbearance, rather Here for never ever after Amen and then some L E G E N D S I told you Jimmy Fallon was a Skrillex. I know. What's worse: Skrillex is a Jimmy Fallon. Oh, that is worse. yO iT iS pRoGrEsSiVeLy WOrSE: Is this what you wanted? The awful destruction of constructs— Click, boom— Knife, gun, Add an axe, Bind the axel, Excellent, Put the prejudice inside your head ahead (We brought it back) Put the Edipus complex To this effect Upon a platter Silver as the gun at stake, And raise the hand that shouldn't matter After that? You won. Four tries; Six goons, Four Gods, One white ther I have Two white coats and misters, hot coals Dark fires, have ones, Six mazes, one center On your mark “The Dark Forest” Ugh I hate this one, Get set Don't forget, we all died here. We all crisis, We all Christ. Goosebumps, right? Gimmie that kite! You dumb son of a bitch! GO! Check it out! I look like Kim Kardashian. But you smell like Kim Chi. Yooo that joke took me like 2 months to write down! I know huh! [The Festival Project ™] I looked for something on Hulu to watch for so long that I almost ate my entire dinner without clicking on something. Finally, I find something that interests me, which is just a graphic of a television set and some color palette by now that is somewhat of a calling card for me. So I get there, And it is of interests, And yet of course the unexplainable anomaly of this, is that, no matter how far I try to run l He just keeps coming back. ‘Like this is crazy.' I never found myself agreeing with Louis C.K. about anything at all, and personally and particularly, I never found him funny, until, that was the sudden realization that the same array of betrayal, anger, and agony fueled by rage and jealousy had taken over he and I and many others probably, when introduced to the possibility of having to share the same reality with a head of hair and a face like that. I might have mustered a “my sentiments exactly” though silently before taking in to my own wonder and amazement that twice in one week, besides skipping over the algorithmic traps in my sidebar which I treated like little land mines or time bombs, but mostly allotted to my own Internet history of my uninhabited viewing, as it seemed I'd been most preoccupied in rerouting this energy into a fascination with TV programming, giving me the satiety for the comfort and familiarity in something; and I was with some some kind of certainty I knew alluded to the old adage of mother knowing everything. Even if everything hadn't happened yet, actually, or maybe it had. This strange sort of desire however was some sort of weakness, with the ability to have a fixation for a desire without any way of actually getting it. As she used to say. “Having champagne taste, but beer money.” [so I avoid it because it makes me angry.] Sometimes even, tearfully angry, and it made me feel so uncontrollably adolescent that I would have equated it to the hysteria of beetlemania; screaming and clawing and aching and chasing for this being that was so notably out of reach. Worse off, I'd realized in this running from what seemed was chasing me was how common I was in this feeling, [] To my demise. In this sense, the safety of this entire being and any alike, was that I could seek logic in my jealousy by rationalizing not attaching to a certain subject sexually or otherwise. But this basis in the contempt of familiarity was really rather irritating, in that it seemed as simple as having an awareness of this seeing all the time, to the point that I became a subconscious aching for [something], blossoming into the actual conscious awareness out of the repressive need for something I no longer had and always wanted: [The Festival Project ™] And for for this, I considered it a sort of sickness that I couldn't seem to tear away from it, but also something that had happened very naturally, and now had unearthed an entire cavern of secrets I could be found no where writing or even very rarely thinking them. Thoughts or ideas worth protecting and the kind of code that goes about saying nothing, looking the other way, keeping your mouth shut and hiding or guarding with your life. But media, or the eye that seems to see all lately had been poking at it, maybe because I wasn't. Maybe because I spent an hour at a time four day a week with [a less than separate set of characters] —or big brother, if you will, in a safe and respectable distance and admiration [] Where I could at a certain pace study this sort of programming without anything having to be reflective of the life I wasn't living— the sex I wasn't having. Watching the ABC version of late night programming was allowing me to focus on the other things I needed— being very skinny, and crossing one leg over the other and sitting pretty; while also showing me another side of a suit and tie that was interesting— The ability to be invisible, and also say many things without talking, for anyone paying attention to the complex series of things very often overlooked by a normal onlooker or audience, Which I was, and wasn't— because I was looking for something. The mind boggling thing to me was, by watching, I was actually finding it. [The Festival Project ™] —Death of a Superstar DJ As Seen on TV The Television People “Puzzle Pieces” I don't want anything I don't want anyone Conflated circumstance Oh, it was was just a nut— Got it and now it's gone Pulled it all off at the thought It was Thunderous But now I got it together I don't want anyone Especially not a poor boy No I'm not alone, boy I got my kitty Pet the cat and love my pussy, So it's really not a mystery I don't need him, or anybody really Miss me with that shit That's a pretty promise and a big redaction Deadass I stepped into my ballet shoe And onto shards of glass I guess that's on pointe But off topic Co-ed saunabody shopping I show up at Equinox But only when I want (On proxy) I protect my heart (On God) I don't want nobody really. One one-off on Wall Street, brother Don't bother calling back Don't got my number, Not a problem Not my name Or my address Cause if you did You'd be depressed like I am. Now we're getting dressed You take a cab I take the train Just another day of training But my life. Is steady draining There's no use in even explaining myself I guess I'm selfish Like dental floss for Christmas Or shellfish for the kitty But for me just friuits and veggies You don't notice? I love nobody, Cause nobody could love me Now I'm over it Now I'm over it Now I'm over it But you know the cost I was nothing Now I want Nothing Nobody love me I don't want nobody, No I'm not sorry How they're swarming on my GPS location With these second rate bit glitches I stay sleeping in my kitch But I'll never rest, I guess Until theirs justice Said that. {Enter The Multiverse} Excerpt: The Television People (TVP) Season 4 © The Complex Collevtivd [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights Reserved REGINALD Would you kill your prostitute for one million dollars? PATRICK Why would you ask me that? REGINALD That's an odd answer. I'd expect your response to be somewhere along the lines of denial of— ever having a prostitute. PATRICK I'm a talk show host. REGINALD Is that supposed to mean something? PATRICK There are certain societal assumptions. REGINALD Do you find yourself—befitting to any of those stereotypes? PATRICK I don't find myself “befitting” at all. REGINALD You know, local [charters of our office] — (But Patrick speaks quickly and with dominance to cut him off.) PATRICK Now that I know what you are— REGINALD You mean “who”? PATRICK I mean “what”; why make and owl's cry in response to a dog's bark? [a realization between the both of them is immidiately found; this sort of language has implied they are belonging to the same branch of THE EYE which acts above the law; it is a fair fight— and now they this phrase has been established, there are now rules written or unspoken which can be applied here.] REGINALD cocks his head and forces an awkward smirk. REGINALD Very well. I am quite the trouble maker; I am mischief, I am danger, I am Chaos, I am leveled I am honored, I am damned I am also coming making day of peace and hallowed are you; I am also coming waves of needing peace to which I bound to. So sparrow coming grace and peace and giving, Made and tied, Though had you not the ever presence or the record for the time, So then you too shall wander, mercilessly to and fro and all about, And here and there but never where my value has been gathered. So for that, the dust is set, And said and twisted, never making bread for peace And dead for death, and craving this, to set of force her Having made my honor there, and lying in the wit and willow, weathered veins and weathervane, And twisting wind of fate and fortune. So, my mind and tressure buried there for gains and white, her shadow Barren in the east, and in the west her mortuary; Seeking sane and crypt but tied and kept for thithered foust and fouling, Butter turned to brittle, May, September, Then another serpent— More to moulf and wept her slated dream for keeping broken bear in, There the wake had frozen into lake and also leather boxes, For what will of what I am and is her fare not wearing any; Though the mister winds of east and west had set her onward any. Lemons and limes, though— Taking my time, soured Never with water, sugar But chest without pride; There in the wake marked and marched o. Her army, Not to yawn or buyoer billow, Porridge feathered, Cream and none for part her hunger There though, then were the marks And the found of the wicked past; Ties there and fire would have her mark upon the dungeon throne, Weeping here though on the floor for flour Every hour passed as I, come creeping with the forest feathered, dimmed the basket having cut from tethered grass, I. And now we wait though them, here, The marshmellow and willow not having woken, Though Monday, for total control of her honor, Contorted. Then came, seeking guild and weight and force, The fear and wind though wish to pull apart the storm had gathered, fell apart itself, Though sit not back and then became as strong, a pebble which from dust became an avalanche at once, through windows past, I— Marked one forest, and one warm summer, And one forest, and good quilt, did slither, and then making in the forest, I, for did I run As yet to suffer also. Yo where the fuck am I going. Alright, airtight we want and something foraged from nothing in her name, And this the time that tells itself for life and health In other ways besides your own. Don't cough. For those who either suffering or lost know of your forces and so sure does come the rock that turned from stone in forests over, So you sure too shall come another, Poor and hurt but soon to suffer, Also. tisk- tisk The risk my friends is running wise, The coyotes running wild for find that lone and feathered friend, To which has flight with all the know that he, and friends are feasts of foe and so these might and waves of time are sure to grow into another. Right on. So I write on and then, the missed and uninformed becomes again the death I recommended. Ten till ten tales and also please give, and whistle whalfolks under our time which has lost mine and all others. So tempted there come gathered, weeping Feathers at her slaughtered as palms, Weight beyond the brow and below the belt to which that called her— Devil's mate and crater for the fate but fame at heart earned, casting shadows over which has lost its appetite, for now becalmed her hunger. Her hunger. Her hunger. REGINALD's tone changes entirely— if at first it may have been a playful game (and it wasn't) now it is serious— crucial, even. REGINALD Why did you do it? PATRICK I wouldn't do something like that… REGINALD —something like what? PATRICK realizes quickly he's been playing over in his mind that has not yet fully been realized on the surface of the conversation— it was an honest answer, but still implicit, and so in this moment of self awareness and realization, also of stunning showman and marksmanship, a certain light comes on as if the camera has been directed at him; his entire mask comes on at once, and no longer can the reminisce of an honest thought be detected. He has become a wall. PATRICK To follow up on your first question. Which was odd— REGINALD About killing your prostitute. (He means to intimidate, but PATRICK is a stone.) PATRICK You must not watch my show at all. REGINALD takes a moment to collect himself, with even just the slightest and temporary glimpse of fear in that he may have met his mental match, and has already lost the fight, also collecting his briefcase before he I told you no more trains. At the risk of sounding obnoxious, I've started ignoring all the voices in my head— Even though they're always right. fuck! REGINALD pauses, takes a deep breath while opening the door before looking back over his shoulder. REGINALD I must not. He walks out and immediately slams the door behind him. PATRICK, as if still in the eye of the camera remains calm, although, just the glimmer of fire in his eyes reflect the battle has yet been won. But as we all know by now, He will win the fight. The television people, season four I can't stand these fuckin hoes; Two days off in your hole Offers you a whole new perspective Of your own God complex; You're better off alone, Dead, Or on prescription medicines For all those thoughts in your head Like the bullet holes left from the gun That is poor and alone And just not having money. Confidence lost with a look, And you're sure you just should have gone come But the court office closes its doors at 4:30 And you've been done wrong Four long lost lovers over, It not about that, but motorcycles It's not about reps, It's about cycles I'm one our Peloton down And a whole world to go While you morons just on and on Won't stop talking Here's to disturbing your peace at the equinox And anywhere else you rest your rotten core, You dirty who're— What's it costs for love? Not a whole lot, Don't you see that I'm struggled in Brooklyn? Fuck this whole raw sewage garbage bucket If I gargle hard enough I'll just throw up But you push all the bottles and straws to the end of the curb And the colored sand blacks to the outskirts So we work harder It's a ocean of no But you know not what it does not to know me So below your own suffering goes the call of the crow just before dawn Mx To drop out Cool I don't want to be here I just want a surfboard Apparently it's your year But I'd slit my wrists for Harvard Yeah, it is— that kind of hurt Yes, it is that kind of pain The corvette stole your very favorite colors And your name That sort of wickedness, Just before it ends The candles flickers and the winter's coming in atop the l marble kitchen counters All right, all yours Patched up, or in the poorhouse Compliments to the chef, of course, compliments to the chef. Gotta go to the court house Of course cause I'm black So it's automatically implied I just don't work hard enough Or just ain't made the cut My momma was a dancer, not an athlete My momma made me fat and now I can't do that either If I'm the other black girl In a room full of white men I automatically become “The ugly one” So then I'm off. What's the point of coming here? A black book? A black box? Try to run me off out of the equinox on Walter Well done. I should not have wrote about it Lil bitz My son accused me of being in the Illuminati. He's 9. How do you even respond to that? I love my son, He's like really, really… fat. It's okay— I kinda like it; he's fat, I used to be fat; So we talk about fat people shit. Like McDonald's. And ham. lol This lady on the subway leaned on my hand on the pole. And I mean like really leaned into it, With her whole body weight. I just came from the gym, I been up all night, And she like— Leaned. Like, you know I didn't say shit, I just let it happen, But inside I'm like, WHY ARE YOU TOUCHHING MEEEEEEEEE?!!?!? WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME?! This train is not full. I don't think you understand. I just came out the steam room. I am the equivalent of fresh and pressed. Then she's just gon Leeeean. FUCK THAT. STOP TOUCHING MEEEEE. but like irl I'm just standing there like, No protest. Inside: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! STOP IT! Outside: [nothing] Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Not even a wisper of collision penetrates explicitly this inclusion; Segmented and represented this disarray of miserable approval, And, abject, Or i object, I guess To that which is to say Today is in between the ordinary and disarray, To make arrangements; A solemn display of effect and intent of regression, And yet without all clear disrespect to port or establishment; Still here are there words and where there was love, no more— none for her but then around, within arousal stands as that, to which has since been lost, If not to time, another concept thus by force unknown, to with and withstand habitat for circumstantial evidence of coincidence, But yet arbitrary and then dismayed for short or arc, There this, no more her words for flower, more of words to thus embark. Still time, Very well, my breath, for I have opened a foreign chapter— Then with the way you say, you wore our out, In time you are uncovered for her drugs and left to smuggle over-under— Therefore when that said time has come, you know to form the drift to wait, And yet lack still this patience I have tamed you many acres since the ancients fell upon there ails; There pitting since sunk and crucial to this, and our time is not lost nor won, disheveled making prayers for sense and dollar signs; No have no more barren chest and thought of songs, much less a found the words for songs as though my love has crept upon the rock, That dusk and dawn, the ocean licks with parched tongue. Scare her dry and feast and fragile and evidence remained as these as words and thoughts, The truths would tell the tale for every way. With each drift scattered mark, upon those boats with sails above known not as white but also many colors of the brethren cut from clothes of all apart and none of one, for this, her maritime. {Enter The Multiverse} I opened right to Debbie downer; I got medicine for your habit (I got the remedy in the form of a secret, But the misery is in keeping it) I got a kind heart, I did some mai tai, Should have learned some thai chi As if I took some matcha Or chai tea Caffeine Adrenaline I got a kind heart Adderall instead of Ritalin Entry level access Salary yellow fashion, Intercept, invest Inception, redirect Service elevator, eh; She don't live here no more But where she is? Couldn't tell you. What's the story On a ten star war. No more Harvard, Purple hearted general, General admission to a festival? Just miss me that that bullshit. For your pleasure, Every crevice just has pressure in it— Now I get it I hypnotized myself, I guess The ribbon Blue belt I should be cleaning instead of half sleeping; I keep explaining myself thinking somebody can hear me When they obviously can't. I've been screaming silently for seven seconds, Several years I think on other planets Pull your hair back in a bun And then you'll learn, I guess I passed out cold upon the stand That was the plan, I guess Much slower to close than to open, Although, I know I pop-button broke the code before But still no low moral summoning (Sorry, product) Still no low road or mud throwing No more home She's 32 and 3 months older But looks much longer And harder, tired Must have body or Motive Must have body Or bad intentions Take a man, and write a book about it Take a man, and write a book about it I call that a thirst trap I call that a thirst trap. She must no longer Prim and proper But the work is never over, Show us all the roots, and know the knowledge But don't talk or comment on it I was “almost” once And I was honest twice Three times, you're a liar Mister, honor, pleasure, Fisher wife And never leather, Tipping tethered, Tied to rock and kite And lock and key For here and there Forbearance, rather Here for never ever after Amen and then some L E G E N D S I told you Jimmy Fallon was a Skrillex. I know. What's worse: Skrillex is a Jimmy Fallon. Oh, that is worse. yO iT iS pRoGrEsSiVeLy WOrSE: Is this what you wanted? The awful destruction of constructs— Click, boom— Knife, gun, Add an axe, Bind the axel, Excellent, Put the prejudice inside your head ahead (We brought it back) Put the Edipus complex To this effect Upon a platter Silver as the gun at stake, And raise the hand that shouldn't matter After that? You won. Four tries; Six goons, Four Gods, One white ther I have Two white coats and misters, hot coals Dark fires, have ones, Six mazes, one center On your mark “The Dark Forest” Ugh I hate this one, Get set Don't forget, we all died here. We all crisis, We all Christ. Goosebumps, right? Gimmie that kite! You dumb son of a bitch! GO! Check it out! I look like Kim Kardashian. But you smell like Kim Chi. Yooo that joke took me like 2 months to write down! I know huh! [The Festival Project ™] I looked for something on Hulu to watch for so long that I almost ate my entire dinner without clicking on something. Finally, I find something that interests me, which is just a graphic of a television set and some color palette by now that is somewhat of a calling card for me. So I get there, And it is of interests, And yet of course the unexplainable anomaly of this, is that, no matter how far I try to run l He just keeps coming back. ‘Like this is crazy.' I never found myself agreeing with Louis C.K. about anything at all, and personally and particularly, I never found him funny, until, that was the sudden realization that the same array of betrayal, anger, and agony fueled by rage and jealousy had taken over he and I and many others probably, when introduced to the possibility of having to share the same reality with a head of hair and a face like that. I might have mustered a “my sentiments exactly” though silently before taking in to my own wonder and amazement that twice in one week, besides skipping over the algorithmic traps in my sidebar which I treated like little land mines or time bombs, but mostly allotted to my own Internet history of my uninhabited viewing, as it seemed I'd been most preoccupied in rerouting this energy into a fascination with TV programming, giving me the satiety for the comfort and familiarity in something; and I was with some some kind of certainty I knew alluded to the old adage of mother knowing everything. Even if everything hadn't happened yet, actually, or maybe it had. This strange sort of desire however was some sort of weakness, with the ability to have a fixation for a desire without any way of actually getting it. As she used to say. “Having champagne taste, but beer money.” [so I avoid it because it makes me angry.] Sometimes even, tearfully angry, and it made me feel so uncontrollably adolescent that I would have equated it to the hysteria of beetlemania; screaming and clawing and aching and chasing for this being that was so notably out of reach. Worse off, I'd realized in this running from what seemed was chasing me was how common I was in this feeling, [] To my demise. In this sense, the safety of this entire being and any alike, was that I could seek logic in my jealousy by rationalizing not attaching to a certain subject sexually or otherwise. But this basis in the contempt of familiarity was really rather irritating, in that it seemed as simple as having an awareness of this seeing all the time, to the point that I became a subconscious aching for [something], blossoming into the actual conscious awareness out of the repressive need for something I no longer had and always wanted: [The Festival Project ™] And for for this, I considered it a sort of sickness that I couldn't seem to tear away from it, but also something that had happened very naturally, and now had unearthed an entire cavern of secrets I could be found no where writing or even very rarely thinking them. Thoughts or ideas worth protecting and the kind of code that goes about saying nothing, looking the other way, keeping your mouth shut and hiding or guarding with your life. But media, or the eye that seems to see all lately had been poking at it, maybe because I wasn't. Maybe because I spent an hour at a time four day a week with [a less than separate set of characters] —or big brother, if you will, in a safe and respectable distance and admiration [] Where I could at a certain pace study this sort of programming without anything having to be reflective of the life I wasn't living— the sex I wasn't having. Watching the ABC version of late night programming was allowing me to focus on the other things I needed— being very skinny, and crossing one leg over the other and sitting pretty; while also showing me another side of a suit and tie that was interesting— The ability to be invisible, and also say many things without talking, for anyone paying attention to the complex series of things very often overlooked by a normal onlooker or audience, Which I was, and wasn't— because I was looking for something. The mind boggling thing to me was, by watching, I was actually finding it. [The Festival Project ™] —Death of a Superstar DJ As Seen on TV The Television People “Puzzle Pieces” I don't want anything I don't want anyone Conflated circumstance Oh, it was was just a nut— Got it and now it's gone Pulled it all off at the thought It was Thunderous But now I got it together I don't want anyone Especially not a poor boy No I'm not alone, boy I got my kitty Pet the cat and love my pussy, So it's really not a mystery I don't need him, or anybody really Miss me with that shit That's a pretty promise and a big redaction Deadass I stepped into my ballet shoe And onto shards of glass I guess that's on pointe But off topic Co-ed saunabody shopping I show up at Equinox But only when I want (On proxy) I protect my heart (On God) I don't want nobody really. One one-off on Wall Street, brother Don't bother calling back Don't got my number, Not a problem Not my name Or my address Cause if you did You'd be depressed like I am. Now we're getting dressed You take a cab I take the train Just another day of training But my life. Is steady draining There's no use in even explaining myself I guess I'm selfish Like dental floss for Christmas Or shellfish for the kitty But for me just friuits and veggies You don't notice? I love nobody, Cause nobody could love me Now I'm over it Now I'm over it Now I'm over it But you know the cost I was nothing Now I want Nothing Nobody love me I don't want nobody, No I'm not sorry How they're swarming on my GPS location With these second rate bit glitches I stay sleeping in my kitch But I'll never rest, I guess Until theirs justice Said that. {Enter The Multiverse} Excerpt: The Television People (TVP) Season 4 © The Complex Collevtivd [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights Reserved REGINALD Would you kill your prostitute for one million dollars? PATRICK Why would you ask me that? REGINALD That's an odd answer. I'd expect your response to be somewhere along the lines of denial of— ever having a prostitute. PATRICK I'm a talk show host. REGINALD Is that supposed to mean something? PATRICK There are certain societal assumptions. REGINALD Do you find yourself—befitting to any of those stereotypes? PATRICK I don't find myself “befitting” at all. REGINALD You know, local [charters of our office] — (But Patrick speaks quickly and with dominance to cut him off.) PATRICK Now that I know what you are— REGINALD You mean “who”? PATRICK I mean “what”; why make and owl's cry in response to a dog's bark? [a realization between the both of them is immidiately found; this sort of language has implied they are belonging to the same branch of THE EYE which acts above the law; it is a fair fight— and now they this phrase has been established, there are now rules written or unspoken which can be applied here.] REGINALD cocks his head and forces an awkward smirk. REGINALD Very well. I am quite the trouble maker; I am mischief, I am danger, I am Chaos, I am leveled I am honored, I am damned I am also coming making day of peace and hallowed are you; I am also coming waves of needing peace to which I bound to. So sparrow coming grace and peace and giving, Made and tied, Though had you not the ever presence or the record for the time, So then you too shall wander, mercilessly to and fro and all about, And here and there but never where my value has been gathered. So for that, the dust is set, And said and twisted, never making bread for peace And dead for death, and craving this, to set of force her Having made my honor there, and lying in the wit and willow, weathered veins and weathervane, And twisting wind of fate and fortune. So, my mind and tressure buried there for gains and white, her shadow Barren in the east, and in the west her mortuary; Seeking sane and crypt but tied and kept for thithered foust and fouling, Butter turned to brittle, May, September, Then another serpent— More to moulf and wept her slated dream for keeping broken bear in, There the wake had frozen into lake and also leather boxes, For what will of what I am and is her fare not wearing any; Though the mister winds of east and west had set her onward any. Lemons and limes, though— Taking my time, soured Never with water, sugar But chest without pride; There in the wake marked and marched o. Her army, Not to yawn or buyoer billow, Porridge feathered, Cream and none for part her hunger There though, then were the marks And the found of the wicked past; Ties there and fire would have her mark upon the dungeon throne, Weeping here though on the floor for flour Every hour passed as I, come creeping with the forest feathered, dimmed the basket having cut from tethered grass, I. And now we wait though them, here, The marshmellow and willow not having woken, Though Monday, for total control of her honor, Contorted. Then came, seeking guild and weight and force, The fear and wind though wish to pull apart the storm had gathered, fell apart itself, Though sit not back and then became as strong, a pebble which from dust became an avalanche at once, through windows past, I— Marked one forest, and one warm summer, And one forest, and good quilt, did slither, and then making in the forest, I, for did I run As yet to suffer also. Yo where the fuck am I going. Alright, airtight we want and something foraged from nothing in her name, And this the time that tells itself for life and health In other ways besides your own. Don't cough. For those who either suffering or lost know of your forces and so sure does come the rock that turned from stone in forests over, So you sure too shall come another, Poor and hurt but soon to suffer, Also. tisk- tisk The risk my friends is running wise, The coyotes running wild for find that lone and feathered friend, To which has flight with all the know that he, and friends are feasts of foe and so these might and waves of time are sure to grow into another. Right on. So I write on and then, the missed and uninformed becomes again the death I recommended. Ten till ten tales and also please give, and whistle whalfolks under our time which has lost mine and all others. So tempted there come gathered, weeping Feathers at her slaughtered as palms, Weight beyond the brow and below the belt to which that called her— Devil's mate and crater for the fate but fame at heart earned, casting shadows over which has lost its appetite, for now becalmed her hunger. Her hunger. Her hunger. REGINALD's tone changes entirely— if at first it may have been a playful game (and it wasn't) now it is serious— crucial, even. REGINALD Why did you do it? PATRICK I wouldn't do something like that… REGINALD —something like what? PATRICK realizes quickly he's been playing over in his mind that has not yet fully been realized on the surface of the conversation— it was an honest answer, but still implicit, and so in this moment of self awareness and realization, also of stunning showman and marksmanship, a certain light comes on as if the camera has been directed at him; his entire mask comes on at once, and no longer can the reminisce of an honest thought be detected. He has become a wall. PATRICK To follow up on your first question. Which was odd— REGINALD About killing your prostitute. (He means to intimidate, but PATRICK is a stone.) PATRICK You must not watch my show at all. REGINALD takes a moment to collect himself, with even just the slightest and temporary glimpse of fear in that he may have met his mental match, and has already lost the fight, also collecting his briefcase before he I told you no more trains. At the risk of sounding obnoxious, I've started ignoring all the voices in my head— Even though they're always right. fuck! REGINALD pauses, takes a deep breath while opening the door before looking back over his shoulder. REGINALD I must not. He walks out and immediately slams the door behind him. PATRICK, as if still in the eye of the camera remains calm, although, just the glimmer of fire in his eyes reflect the battle has yet been won. But as we all know by now, He will win the fight. The television people, season four I can't stand these fuckin hoes; Two days off in your hole Offers you a whole new perspective Of your own God complex; You're better off alone, Dead, Or on prescription medicines For all those thoughts in your head Like the bullet holes left from the gun That is poor and alone And just not having money. Confidence lost with a look, And you're sure you just should have gone come But the court office closes its doors at 4:30 And you've been done wrong Four long lost lovers over, It not about that, but motorcycles It's not about reps, It's about cycles I'm one our Peloton down And a whole world to go While you morons just on and on Won't stop talking Here's to disturbing your peace at the equinox And anywhere else you rest your rotten core, You dirty who're— What's it costs for love? Not a whole lot, Don't you see that I'm struggled in Brooklyn? Fuck this whole raw sewage garbage bucket If I gargle hard enough I'll just throw up But you push all the bottles and straws to the end of the curb And the colored sand blacks to the outskirts So we work harder It's a ocean of no But you know not what it does not to know me So below your own suffering goes the call of the crow just before dawn Mx To drop out Cool I don't want to be here I just want a surfboard Apparently it's your year But I'd slit my wrists for Harvard Yeah, it is— that kind of hurt Yes, it is that kind of pain The corvette stole your very favorite colors And your name That sort of wickedness, Just before it ends The candles flickers and the winter's coming in atop the l marble kitchen counters All right, all yours Patched up, or in the poorhouse Compliments to the chef, of course, compliments to the chef. Gotta go to the court house Of course cause I'm black So it's automatically implied I just don't work hard enough Or just ain't made the cut My momma was a dancer, not an athlete My momma made me fat and now I can't do that either If I'm the other black girl In a room full of white men I automatically become “The ugly one” So then I'm off. What's the point of coming here? A black book? A black box? Try to run me off out of the equinox on Walter Well done. I should not have wrote about it Lil bitz My son accused me of being in the Illuminati. He's 9. How do you even respond to that? I love my son, He's like really, really… fat. It's okay— I kinda like it; he's fat, I used to be fat; So we talk about fat people shit. Like McDonald's. And ham. lol This lady on the subway leaned on my hand on the pole. And I mean like really leaned into it, With her whole body weight. I just came from the gym, I been up all night, And she like— Leaned. Like, you know I didn't say shit, I just let it happen, But inside I'm like, WHY ARE YOU TOUCHHING MEEEEEEEEE?!!?!? WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME?! This train is not full. I don't think you understand. I just came out the steam room. I am the equivalent of fresh and pressed. Then she's just gon Leeeean. FUCK THAT. STOP TOUCHING MEEEEE. but like irl I'm just standing there like, No protest. Inside: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! STOP IT! Outside: [nothing] Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Not even a wisper of collision penetrates explicitly this inclusion; Segmented and represented this disarray of miserable approval, And, abject, Or i object, I guess To that which is to say Today is in between the ordinary and disarray, To make arrangements; A solemn display of effect and intent of regression, And yet without all clear disrespect to port or establishment; Still here are there words and where there was love, no more— none for her but then around, within arousal stands as that, to which has since been lost, If not to time, another concept thus by force unknown, to with and withstand habitat for circumstantial evidence of coincidence, But yet arbitrary and then dismayed for short or arc, There this, no more her words for flower, more of words to thus embark. Still time, Very well, my breath, for I have opened a foreign chapter— Then with the way you say, you wore our out, In time you are uncovered for her drugs and left to smuggle over-under— Therefore when that said time has come, you know to form the drift to wait, And yet lack still this patience I have tamed you many acres since the ancients fell upon there ails; There pitting since sunk and crucial to this, and our time is not lost nor won, disheveled making prayers for sense and dollar signs; No have no more barren chest and thought of songs, much less a found the words for songs as though my love has crept upon the rock, That dusk and dawn, the ocean licks with parched tongue. Scare her dry and feast and fragile and evidence remained as these as words and thoughts, The truths would tell the tale for every way. With each drift scattered mark, upon those boats with sails above known not as white but also many colors of the brethren cut from clothes of all apart and none of one, for this, her maritime. {Enter The Multiverse} I opened right to Debbie downer; I got medicine for your habit (I got the remedy in the form of a secret, But the misery is in keeping it) I got a kind heart, I did some mai tai, Should have learned some thai chi As if I took some matcha Or chai tea Caffeine Adrenaline I got a kind heart Adderall instead of Ritalin Entry level access Salary yellow fashion, Intercept, invest Inception, redirect Service elevator, eh; She don't live here no more But where she is? Couldn't tell you. What's the story On a ten star war. No more Harvard, Purple hearted general, General admission to a festival? Just miss me that that bullshit. For your pleasure, Every crevice just has pressure in it— Now I get it I hypnotized myself, I guess The ribbon Blue belt I should be cleaning instead of half sleeping; I keep explaining myself thinking somebody can hear me When they obviously can't. I've been screaming silently for seven seconds, Several years I think on other planets Pull your hair back in a bun And then you'll learn, I guess I passed out cold upon the stand That was the plan, I guess Much slower to close than to open, Although, I know I pop-button broke the code before But still no low moral summoning (Sorry, product) Still no low road or mud throwing No more home She's 32 and 3 months older But looks much longer And harder, tired Must have body or Motive Must have body Or bad intentions Take a man, and write a book about it Take a man, and write a book about it I call that a thirst trap I call that a thirst trap. She must no longer Prim and proper But the work is never over, Show us all the roots, and know the knowledge But don't talk or comment on it I was “almost” once And I was honest twice Three times, you're a liar Mister, honor, pleasure, Fisher wife And never leather, Tipping tethered, Tied to rock and kite And lock and key For here and there Forbearance, rather Here for never ever after Amen and then some L E G E N D S I told you Jimmy Fallon was a Skrillex. I know. What's worse: Skrillex is a Jimmy Fallon. Oh, that is worse. yO iT iS pRoGrEsSiVeLy WOrSE: Is this what you wanted? The awful destruction of constructs— Click, boom— Knife, gun, Add an axe, Bind the axel, Excellent, Put the prejudice inside your head ahead (We brought it back) Put the Edipus complex To this effect Upon a platter Silver as the gun at stake, And raise the hand that shouldn't matter After that? You won. Four tries; Six goons, Four Gods, One white ther I have Two white coats and misters, hot coals Dark fires, have ones, Six mazes, one center On your mark “The Dark Forest” Ugh I hate this one, Get set Don't forget, we all died here. We all crisis, We all Christ. Goosebumps, right? Gimmie that kite! You dumb son of a bitch! GO! Check it out! I look like Kim Kardashian. But you smell like Kim Chi. Yooo that joke took me like 2 months to write down! I know huh! [The Festival Project ™] I looked for something on Hulu to watch for so long that I almost ate my entire dinner without clicking on something. Finally, I find something that interests me, which is just a graphic of a television set and some color palette by now that is somewhat of a calling card for me. So I get there, And it is of interests, And yet of course the unexplainable anomaly of this, is that, no matter how far I try to run l He just keeps coming back. ‘Like this is crazy.' I never found myself agreeing with Louis C.K. about anything at all, and personally and particularly, I never found him funny, until, that was the sudden realization that the same array of betrayal, anger, and agony fueled by rage and jealousy had taken over he and I and many others probably, when introduced to the possibility of having to share the same reality with a head of hair and a face like that. I might have mustered a “my sentiments exactly” though silently before taking in to my own wonder and amazement that twice in one week, besides skipping over the algorithmic traps in my sidebar which I treated like little land mines or time bombs, but mostly allotted to my own Internet history of my uninhabited viewing, as it seemed I'd been most preoccupied in rerouting this energy into a fascination with TV programming, giving me the satiety for the comfort and familiarity in something; and I was with some some kind of certainty I knew alluded to the old adage of mother knowing everything. Even if everything hadn't happened yet, actually, or maybe it had. This strange sort of desire however was some sort of weakness, with the ability to have a fixation for a desire without any way of actually getting it. As she used to say. “Having champagne taste, but beer money.” [so I avoid it because it makes me angry.] Sometimes even, tearfully angry, and it made me feel so uncontrollably adolescent that I would have equated it to the hysteria of beetlemania; screaming and clawing and aching and chasing for this being that was so notably out of reach. Worse off, I'd realized in this running from what seemed was chasing me was how common I was in this feeling, [] To my demise. In this sense, the safety of this entire being and any alike, was that I could seek logic in my jealousy by rationalizing not attaching to a certain subject sexually or otherwise. But this basis in the contempt of familiarity was really rather irritating, in that it seemed as simple as having an awareness of this seeing all the time, to the point that I became a subconscious aching for [something], blossoming into the actual conscious awareness out of the repressive need for something I no longer had and always wanted: [The Festival Project ™] And for for this, I considered it a sort of sickness that I couldn't seem to tear away from it, but also something that had happened very naturally, and now had unearthed an entire cavern of secrets I could be found no where writing or even very rarely thinking them. Thoughts or ideas worth protecting and the kind of code that goes about saying nothing, looking the other way, keeping your mouth shut and hiding or guarding with your life. But media, or the eye that seems to see all lately had been poking at it, maybe because I wasn't. Maybe because I spent an hour at a time four day a week with [a less than separate set of characters] —or big brother, if you will, in a safe and respectable distance and admiration [] Where I could at a certain pace study this sort of programming without anything having to be reflective of the life I wasn't living— the sex I wasn't having. Watching the ABC version of late night programming was allowing me to focus on the other things I needed— being very skinny, and crossing one leg over the other and sitting pretty; while also showing me another side of a suit and tie that was interesting— The ability to be invisible, and also say many things without talking, for anyone paying attention to the complex series of things very often overlooked by a normal onlooker or audience, Which I was, and wasn't— because I was looking for something. The mind boggling thing to me was, by watching, I was actually finding it. [The Festival Project ™] —Death of a Superstar DJ As Seen on TV The Television People “Puzzle Pieces” I don't want anything I don't want anyone Conflated circumstance Oh, it was was just a nut— Got it and now it's gone Pulled it all off at the thought It was Thunderous But now I got it together I don't want anyone Especially not a poor boy No I'm not alone, boy I got my kitty Pet the cat and love my pussy, So it's really not a mystery I don't need him, or anybody really Miss me with that shit That's a pretty promise and a big redaction Deadass I stepped into my ballet shoe And onto shards of glass I guess that's on pointe But off topic Co-ed saunabody shopping I show up at Equinox But only when I want (On proxy) I protect my heart (On God) I don't want nobody really. One one-off on Wall Street, brother Don't bother calling back Don't got my number, Not a problem Not my name Or my address Cause if you did You'd be depressed like I am. Now we're getting dressed You take a cab I take the train Just another day of training But my life. Is steady draining There's no use in even explaining myself I guess I'm selfish Like dental floss for Christmas Or shellfish for the kitty But for me just friuits and veggies You don't notice? I love nobody, Cause nobody could love me Now I'm over it Now I'm over it Now I'm over it But you know the cost I was nothing Now I want Nothing Nobody love me I don't want nobody, No I'm not sorry How they're swarming on my GPS location With these second rate bit glitches I stay sleeping in my kitch But I'll never rest, I guess Until theirs justice Said that. {Enter The Multiverse} Excerpt: The Television People (TVP) Season 4 © The Complex Collevtivd [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights Reserved REGINALD Would you kill your prostitute for one million dollars? PATRICK Why would you ask me that? REGINALD That's an odd answer. I'd expect your response to be somewhere along the lines of denial of— ever having a prostitute. PATRICK I'm a talk show host. REGINALD Is that supposed to mean something? PATRICK There are certain societal assumptions. REGINALD Do you find yourself—befitting to any of those stereotypes? PATRICK I don't find myself “befitting” at all. REGINALD You know, local [charters of our office] — (But Patrick speaks quickly and with dominance to cut him off.) PATRICK Now that I know what you are— REGINALD You mean “who”? PATRICK I mean “what”; why make and owl's cry in response to a dog's bark? [a realization between the both of them is immidiately found; this sort of language has implied they are belonging to the same branch of THE EYE which acts above the law; it is a fair fight— and now they this phrase has been established, there are now rules written or unspoken which can be applied here.] REGINALD cocks his head and forces an awkward smirk. REGINALD Very well. I am quite the trouble maker; I am mischief, I am danger, I am Chaos, I am leveled I am honored, I am damned I am also coming making day of peace and hallowed are you; I am also coming waves of needing peace to which I bound to. So sparrow coming grace and peace and giving, Made and tied, Though had you not the ever presence or the record for the time, So then you too shall wander, mercilessly to and fro and all about, And here and there but never where my value has been gathered. So for that, the dust is set, And said and twisted, never making bread for peace And dead for death, and craving this, to set of force her Having made my honor there, and lying in the wit and willow, weathered veins and weathervane, And twisting wind of fate and fortune. So, my mind and tressure buried there for gains and white, her shadow Barren in the east, and in the west her mortuary; Seeking sane and crypt but tied and kept for thithered foust and fouling, Butter turned to brittle, May, September, Then another serpent— More to moulf and wept her slated dream for keeping broken bear in, There the wake had frozen into lake and also leather boxes, For what will of what I am and is her fare not wearing any; Though the mister winds of east and west had set her onward any. Lemons and limes, though— Taking my time, soured Never with water, sugar But chest without pride; There in the wake marked and marched o. Her army, Not to yawn or buyoer billow, Porridge feathered, Cream and none for part her hunger There though, then were the marks And the found of the wicked past; Ties there and fire would have her mark upon the dungeon throne, Weeping here though on the floor for flour Every hour passed as I, come creeping with the forest feathered, dimmed the basket having cut from tethered grass, I. And now we wait though them, here, The marshmellow and willow not having woken, Though Monday, for total control of her honor, Contorted. Then came, seeking guild and weight and force, The fear and wind though wish to pull apart the storm had gathered, fell apart itself, Though sit not back and then became as strong, a pebble which from dust became an avalanche at once, through windows past, I— Marked one forest, and one warm summer, And one forest, and good quilt, did slither, and then making in the forest, I, for did I run As yet to suffer also. Yo where the fuck am I going. Alright, airtight we want and something foraged from nothing in her name, And this the time that tells itself for life and health In other ways besides your own. Don't cough. For those who either suffering or lost know of your forces and so sure does come the rock that turned from stone in forests over, So you sure too shall come another, Poor and hurt but soon to suffer, Also. tisk- tisk The risk my friends is running wise, The coyotes running wild for find that lone and feathered friend, To which has flight with all the know that he, and friends are feasts of foe and so these might and waves of time are sure to grow into another. Right on. So I write on and then, the missed and uninformed becomes again the death I recommended. Ten till ten tales and also please give, and whistle whalfolks under our time which has lost mine and all others. So tempted there come gathered, weeping Feathers at her slaughtered as palms, Weight beyond the brow and below the belt to which that called her— Devil's mate and crater for the fate but fame at heart earned, casting shadows over which has lost its appetite, for now becalmed her hunger. Her hunger. Her hunger. REGINALD's tone changes entirely— if at first it may have been a playful game (and it wasn't) now it is serious— crucial, even. REGINALD Why did you do it? PATRICK I wouldn't do something like that… REGINALD —something like what? PATRICK realizes quickly he's been playing over in his mind that has not yet fully been realized on the surface of the conversation— it was an honest answer, but still implicit, and so in this moment of self awareness and realization, also of stunning showman and marksmanship, a certain light comes on as if the camera has been directed at him; his entire mask comes on at once, and no longer can the reminisce of an honest thought be detected. He has become a wall. PATRICK To follow up on your first question. Which was odd— REGINALD About killing your prostitute. (He means to intimidate, but PATRICK is a stone.) PATRICK You must not watch my show at all. REGINALD takes a moment to collect himself, with even just the slightest and temporary glimpse of fear in that he may have met his mental match, and has already lost the fight, also collecting his briefcase before he I told you no more trains. At the risk of sounding obnoxious, I've started ignoring all the voices in my head— Even though they're always right. fuck! REGINALD pauses, takes a deep breath while opening the door before looking back over his shoulder. REGINALD I must not. He walks out and immediately slams the door behind him. PATRICK, as if still in the eye of the camera remains calm, although, just the glimmer of fire in his eyes reflect the battle has yet been won. But as we all know by now, He will win the fight. The television people, season four I can't stand these fuckin hoes; Two days off in your hole Offers you a whole new perspective Of your own God complex; You're better off alone, Dead, Or on prescription medicines For all those thoughts in your head Like the bullet holes left from the gun That is poor and alone And just not having money. Confidence lost with a look, And you're sure you just should have gone come But the court office closes its doors at 4:30 And you've been done wrong Four long lost lovers over, It not about that, but motorcycles It's not about reps, It's about cycles I'm one our Peloton down And a whole world to go While you morons just on and on Won't stop talking Here's to disturbing your peace at the equinox And anywhere else you rest your rotten core, You dirty who're— What's it costs for love? Not a whole lot, Don't you see that I'm struggled in Brooklyn? Fuck this whole raw sewage garbage bucket If I gargle hard enough I'll just throw up But you push all the bottles and straws to the end of the curb And the colored sand blacks to the outskirts So we work harder It's a ocean of no But you know not what it does not to know me So below your own suffering goes the call of the crow just before dawn Mx To drop out Cool I don't want to be here I just want a surfboard Apparently it's your year But I'd slit my wrists for Harvard Yeah, it is— that kind of hurt Yes, it is that kind of pain The corvette stole your very favorite colors And your name That sort of wickedness, Just before it ends The candles flickers and the winter's coming in atop the l marble kitchen counters All right, all yours Patched up, or in the poorhouse Compliments to the chef, of course, compliments to the chef. Gotta go to the court house Of course cause I'm black So it's automatically implied I just don't work hard enough Or just ain't made the cut My momma was a dancer, not an athlete My momma made me fat and now I can't do that either If I'm the other black girl In a room full of white men I automatically become “The ugly one” So then I'm off. What's the point of coming here? A black book? A black box? Try to run me off out of the equinox on Walter Well done. I should not have wrote about it Lil bitz My son accused me of being in the Illuminati. He's 9. How do you even respond to that? I love my son, He's like really, really… fat. It's okay— I kinda like it; he's fat, I used to be fat; So we talk about fat people shit. Like McDonald's. And ham. lol This lady on the subway leaned on my hand on the pole. And I mean like really leaned into it, With her whole body weight. I just came from the gym, I been up all night, And she like— Leaned. Like, you know I didn't say shit, I just let it happen, But inside I'm like, WHY ARE YOU TOUCHHING MEEEEEEEEE?!!?!? WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME?! This train is not full. I don't think you understand. I just came out the steam room. I am the equivalent of fresh and pressed. Then she's just gon Leeeean. FUCK THAT. STOP TOUCHING MEEEEE. but like irl I'm just standing there like, No protest. Inside: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! STOP IT! Outside: [nothing] Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

What was the last compliment someone gave you? Can you even remember it? Probably not and you're not alone.

Wednesday, December 03, 2025 The Dominant Duo – Total Dominance Hour -The 'no-pass' game, CFP rankings discussion, Berry's parody in NCAAF, Draymond Green's compliments and more. Follow the Sports Animal on Facebook, Instagram and X PLUS Jim Traber on Instagram, Berry Tramel on X and Dean Blevins on X Follow Tony Z on Instagram and Facebook Listen to past episodes HERE! Follow Total Dominance Podcasts on Apple, Google and SpotifySee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

My thoughts are, I'm making you miserable It just doesn't mean as much I can't catch a break, I guess Chipmunk in cheekbones And missing this presence It's never escape this dismensions Or never dealing the message Or never just getting the lesson Move past it, It's kept in a box That has locks more secure than your mess is Entire apartments. From the start the argument has been, if not about this, than what? If not about us, than when? Or who? You should have been accomplished; Compliments to the chef, If you can cross this off your checklist You might have even made it To the age inside the matrix. It's just a broken down truck A whole damn box of tools You lose yourself and pretend You don't forget to use, But it's just useless Lower dosage, Pay the tip and pay the postage Post matron mortal, A whole box A whole box of chocolate Lost on your Botox Oh, but we're friends now? No. Robots in a digital world, Only programmed to carry out certain tasks, And then vanish. I dig up your past, and then replaced it with a mattress And a box of matches; Whoever does it next can have it— How they're making hatchbacks out of plastic, I can't manage, But it's fascinating. —The edit effect. Good to see I'm not the only one who noticed— turns out I am a trendsetter, trendsetter Now inaction doesn't really make the pain better But the strain of sweat and tears will make my bed wetter. Just a clip— The college kids don't know the difference It's just a temporary love because I'm friendless— The predicate of this is that the people never get it. As it happens, once I'm past it But let's have a laugh at medicine Inside my head and bring it back again, The panic So much for tall dark and handsome When it's decided that I want something Everyone does sure follow I am a trendsetter. Go back and get the song back, Jack Johnson For nine seasons I was Kevin Nealon, Ten since tent cities and intensities— Oh, there are English pubs? I only had the Irish, Blimey. Ten times limon, Rice and beans and I'm convinced I'm dying Cut my eye out Blood and ribbons, tenements and genre binders Television friends and Lipton dipping into Hot boiling water Have a monologue prepared And mother? Never talk about her. Tip the tooth fairy, bet she does her job Your wings are growing out in February Never leave the nest, dear Gotta wait till next year. These printers and prenups are dripping in women It's finally winter with little indifference To the matter at hand; You're well enough dressed But wet and soaked in raw sewage Standing in your ankle socks, You wanker. An addendum to all my ever living misses And these premium obsessions, So neglect the data that you entered, Even for a minute, introspections, Get the limit in but never medicine the mister You probably should have been there— It wasn't your decision. Encrypted sir, For heaven's sense, I love a good caricature But Heaven hasn't said a sentence since just after dinner When the strict caloric deficit set in With all the evidence collected. This is what become of the avoidance, I have to cut you out and then in the way, I guess I get rewarded but it shouldn't ever hurt this much just moving forward It really shouldn't ever hurt this much just moving forward. Apologies to Matt Damon, I am in pain And then the very subtle finger tips I will admit Could calm me down a bit I panic at the passkey woven case If all these baseless claims And waves of delusional grandeur; You can love that but never afford it How and arrow in a stray hat The fact is, I'm just a madman And a phantom And yet The cracks in the mask have been detected— An internet trend that I can pretend I hadn't mentioned to my artificial intelligence, Then again Curiosity let the cat out of the bag, But couldn't for a second bring him to have the heart to kill him. How many mistakes can I make in just this commercial break— They're breaking my heart from the land of the lost! You can beat the boss, but there's just another one You can play the game, but you can't turn it off— You get more lives than one, But I promise, you wouldn't want them It just gets harder, I walk on quantum physics Mystified by Wall Street, we all learn to die at once To become what we always wanted; Peace and nothingness, the power to see beyond screens, Out of the box where the state of the art Is the way of the world, And never the opposite. So I shared my toy With every other girl and boy Inside the World Wide Web Who wanted playing with it Guess you could say in a way I am giving, On the prejudice That all I'll ever get is just a glimpse or image With respect To turning my eyes backwards before it gets to damage any valuables. Those assholes. forgetmenots. // II. follow through. Unreleased TBA Symposium. [As Seen On TV] TBA 2025/2026 Composed by C'cxell Solïel Prod By -Ū. DBA Blü Tha Gürū Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

In this candid and intimate episode, Lauren and Trey explore the idea of sexual currency and how consistent deposits into a partner's sexual bank account can transform intimacy in long-term relationships. They share the story of a magical sexual encounter they had the night before and talk about why it was only possible because Trey had been investing in Lauren's sexual bank account for the past 4 to 6 weeks.They revisit the rough menstrual cycle documented earlier in the season and talk about the way Lauren has been shedding an old version of herself. Trey's patience, curiosity, and willingness to give her the space she needs have helped her feel more attracted, more connected, and more open to erotic exploration.Together they break down the specific investments that made the difference. Curious questions. Protecting Lauren's alone time. Mutual masturbation and how they make it work. Words of affirmation. Compliments. Acts of service, including Trey laundering Lauren's period underwear. And the impact of Trey not complaining, sulking, or pressuring Lauren when her capacity for sex shifted.They also share a recent moment where Trey offered Lauren feedback and she tried a new technique of listening as a friend instead of as someone who needed to defend herself. That shift made a deposit in Trey's sexual bank account and created more emotional space and helped deepen their connection.Lauren and Trey talk about how when women say they do not want sex - they are talking about the boring kind of sex. The type of sex women actually want is sex that feels safe, secure, connected, and adventurous. They describe why last night's sex is the kind most couples dream about and how it becomes possible through emotional investment, clear communication, and trust.Lauren also shares her favorite Maude vibrator, the VIBE: https://getmaude.com/SEFY?q=vibe-personal-massagerIf you want to learn how to make meaningful deposits into your partner's sexual bank account, you can request a free consult at: www.sexedforyou.com/freeconsultIf this episode supports you, please like, share, and subscribe.Ideal for couples in long-term partnerships who want deeper intimacy, more desire, and better sex.About Us: Lauren and Trey are partners living in Central Virginia where Lauren owns and operates, SEX ED FOR YOU. She provides comprehensive sexuality education and embodied coaching to individuals, partners, and parents.Through a biopsychosocial approach, Sex Ed for You works to restore positive and respectful approaches to sexuality and sexual relationships, as well as increase the possibility of having pleasurable and safe sexual experiences, free of coercion, discrimination and violence. (WHO)Sexual health is fundamental to the overall health and well-being of individuals, couples and families, and to the social and economic development of communities and countries. (WHO) When individuals are blocked from sexual health they are stunted from developing a sense of sensual play and enjoyment. • Learn more about Sex Ed for You at ⁠⁠https://www.sexedforyou.com⁠⁠• Schedule a FREE CONSULT with Lauren today: ⁠⁠https://www.sexedforyou.com/freeconsult⁠⁠• Learn more about partnered communication best practices on Sex Ed For You's Instagram Page: ⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/sex_ed_for_you/⁠⁠• Subscribe to our YouTube channel for more videos about sex, partnership, communication, and love: ⁠⁠https://youtube.com/@thepartnershippodcast⁠⁠Reminders: This is not a "how to" podcast, but rather a "how they" podcast. Please listen to our opinions and then come to your own! Learn from our mistakes or give our techniques a try! It's all up to you. Lauren is NOT a therapist. She is a Certified Holistic Sexuality Educator and Embodied Intimacy and Relationship Coach.

Want to know what to say to make a guy feel truly special and appreciated? Stop telling him he's funny and start giving him compliments that matter. In this episode, we're revealing the core compliments that will set you apart and build an instant, deeper connection.NEXT STEP: Book a complimentary Love Strategy Session and let us help you attract love this year: https://go.lovestrategies.com/session

This week on The LA Food Podcast, Luca welcomes back Nancy DaSilva, co-host of Compliments to the Chef, certified New Yorker, and our official ambassador from LA's louder, older, and more globally hyped culinary sibling: New York City.We kick things off with a Thanksgiving ice-breaker before diving straight into the State of Dining in NYC. Is the vibe doom, boom, or mellow in-between? Nancy walks us through the restaurant openings shaping 2025, the spots she loves, the ones that let her down, and the trends taking over New York—while we compare them to LA's little-gem-salad, Bub-and-Grandma's-bread era.We also get into the NY food-media moment: the new critics at The New York Times, the rise of Feed Me and J. Lee's podcast, and what it means for how diners discover restaurants. Then it's Michelin time—what shocked Nancy in the 2025 Guide, how New Yorkers actually use it, and how it stacks up to LA's still-evolving Michelin culture.From impossible New York reservations to Blackbird's traction on both coasts, we break down how people are actually eating, booking and talking about restaurants right now. And yes, Nancy finally answers the question every Angeleno secretly wants to know: In 2025, does New York respect LA dining?Then we close with a special Chef's Kiss / Big Miss lightning round featuring:• turkey prices soaring 70%• Meadow Lane, NYC's new luxury-grocery fever dream• the rise of $945 caviar advent calendars• Bukayo Saka's deranged childhood breakfastIf you love restaurant culture, food media, LA vs NY banter, or just need a Thanksgiving distraction, this one is for you.

Most people think attraction is all about chemistry or confidence, but they overlook one of the simplest tools we have: a well-placed compliment. One genuine line, said at the right moment, can dissolve tension, spark a real connection, and make someone feel truly noticed in a way they haven't in a long time.In this episode, I'm talking about why compliments hit so deeply—especially for men—and how they can completely change the way someone experiences you. If you've ever wondered what actually sticks with someone or how to close the gap with a person you like, this is going to give you a totally new way of thinking about attraction.---►► Never Face Your Love Life Alone Again. Try Matthew AI for FREE at AskMH.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Today on Valentine In The Morning: We start with your favorite compliments — the ones that stuck with you, lifted you up, or still make you smile years later. Then we stir the pot with Thanksgiving Tea, as listeners share the drama, secrets, and family plot twists brewing ahead of the holiday. Listen live every weekday from 5–10am Pacific: https://www.iheart.com/live/1043-myfm-173/Website: 1043myfm.com/valentineInstagram: @ValentineInTheMorningFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/valentineinthemorningTikTok: @ValentineInTheMorningSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode I share why having ADHD makes accepting a compliment feel LITERALLY impossible and how to start accepting them to enhance your self confidence Free Support

Silas' daughter is officially off to college, and he's having a lot of feelings about it. Is college still a no-brainer, or a massive financial gamble you should only take when you're truly ready? He and Samantha talk through parenting a new college student, the realities of campus party culture, and what it means when your kid proudly shows your old comedy sets to her roommates. They also get into the kinds of compliments that really land: being told you're funny or talented versus just “hot,” why recognition for your work hits different, and how our dreams about teaching, MFAs, and creative careers evolve over time. Plus: hotel etiquette wars, cleaning services as mental health, water bottle obsessions, sugar panic, and why we're always one step away from writing a Black & A Half cookbook.

Ben Roethlisberger was complimentary of Mason Rudolph on his Footbahlin podcast. Should Rudolph play against Chicago if Aaron Rodgers isn't close to 100%? The NFL upheld the one-game suspension for Ja'Marr Chase spitting on Jalen Ramsey. Tomlin confirmed that Darius Slay will start, if healthy.

Hour 1 with Bob Pompeani and Joe Starkey: Ben Roethlisberger was complimentary of Mason Rudolph on his podcast. Should Rudolph play against Chicago if Aaron Rodgers isn't close to 100%? We all think that Rodgers will play, especially being against the Bears. Jeff Passan reported that the Pirates were willing to offer double what they paid for in the Francisco Liriano contract for Josh Naylor. James Franklin has been hired by Virginia Tech.

We try the Oreo Thanksgiving Dinner so you don't have to, BOOB TUBE: Alexis watched "Frankenstein" and Holly checked out "Being Eddie," Travis Barker's spousal compliments have us scratching our heads, and more BOOB TUBE: Holly's take on "One to One: John & Yoko"See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

...and is it shallow or deep?

We're back with another Just Us and today we're unpacking the pure, unadulterated embarrassment of the clear bag - and Al has a new obsession fresh out of 2017!Meanwhile - we've discovered that Boy Alex may have some things to learn about the mechanics of periods and Em has been on a spiral (stay tuned for the live re-enactment)Can you help Em out of her existential spiral? Email us on shouldideletethatpod@gmail.com Follow us on Instagram:@shouldideletethat@em_clarkson@alexlight_ldnShould I Delete That is produced by Faye LawrenceStudio Manager: Elliott MckayVideo Editor: Celia GomezSocial Media Manager: Sarah EnglishMusic: Alex Andrew Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Louie gets a wild text from his dad and things spiral into talk about cynicism, giving (and taking) compliments, and why we chase what we're “missing out on.” _____ -BetterHelp: If you're struggling, consider therapy with our sponsor. Visit https://betterhelp.com/secondhandtherapy for a discount on your first month of therapy. If you have questions about the brand relating to how the therapists are credentialed, their privacy policy, or therapist compensation, here is an overview written by the YouTube creators behind the channel Cinema Therapy that goes into these topics: https://www.reddit.com/r/cinema_therapy/comments/1dpriql/addressing_the_betterhelp_concerns_headon_deep/ -The Maca Team: Louie really does take Maca every day. (He takes Black and Tri-Blend). He loves it. http://themacateam.com/secondhandtherapy promo code: bearcub for 10% off -Light Phone: Louie really does have and use a Light Phone III. He loves it. https://www.thelightphone.com/shop?ref=mmexymn promo code: secondhandtherapy for $50 off pre-order of Light Phone III _____ Louie gets a surprising text from his dad—and it sparks a conversation about how we process emotion, self-worth, and connection. In this episode, we unpack why giving and receiving compliments can feel so uncomfortable, how cynicism masks vulnerability, and what “missing out” really means when it comes to FOMO. Michael opens up about his ongoing struggle with accountability—and Louie calls him out on it. BUSINESS INQUIRIES: business@secondhandtherapypod.com Support the pod: PATREON - http://patreon.com/secondhandtherapypod MERCH - http://secondhandtherapypod.com Follow us here: http://instagram.com/secondhandtherapypod http://tiktok.com/@secondhandtherapypod Contact us: secondhandtherapypod@gmail.com 818-850-2448 PO BOX 230595, Las Vegas, NV 89105

Designer Paul Costelloe said “I really love Irish people... they are so quick to pay you a compliment”, but is he right? Do we give out enough compliments to people? Are they genuine and how do you take a back handed compliment? Should we compliment people more?Newstalk's Henry McKean has been asking the public, and joins Seán to discuss.

This week on Unscensored, it’s all about fragrance – aka, the fastest-growing beauty subcategory. We’re talking signature scents, popular perfumes, and surprising viral moments. Two words: Michael Bublé.We also reminisce about the first perfumes we fell in love with (Britney Spears’ Fantasy mention) and unpack the fragrance microtrends shaping the way younger consumers express individuality. Are we moving away from celebrity scents and towards something more story-driven?Plus, we reveal how to actually gift someone a fragrance – drawing inspo from our favourite to not-so-favourite perfumes – and the sets we think are worth every (scent). Compliments, incoming. Everything mentioned: who is elijah 12 Scents of Christmas Advent Calendar Trudon 3kg candle Yves Saint Laurent Y Limited Edition Set Kayali Discovery Layering Set 3.0 MEMO PARIS Discovery Kit Commodity Exploration Set Submit your Beauty IQ Hotline questions and Build My Cart challenges for Hannah and Mel @adorebeauty on IG. Join the conversation in our Beauty IQ Uncensored Facebook Group to discuss this episode, swap beauty tips, and submit your questions for future shows. Credits: Hosts: Hannah Furst and Melissa Mason Producer: Jasmine Riley For more beauty insights and exclusive offers, visit adorebeauty.com.au Disclaimer | Privacy PolicySee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Fisting used to be a niche fetish practiced by kinksters in dungeons, but today “Fisting is the It Girl” according to writer and expert fister Alexander Cheves. In this deep dive, Alex explains how the availability of fisting content on Twitter has led to a surge of interest from younger queer folks in recent years. But there’s a lot that first time fist fuckers need to know about how to prepare and train for play, in order to avoid serious injuries. Luckily, Alex has plenty of smart tips (and sweet stories) to share for both beginners and pros. Get the x-lube and puppy pads ready. It’s time to go Fisting For Compliments. Follow Sniffies' Cruising Confessions: cruisingconfessions.com Try Sniffies: sniffies.com Follow Sniffies on Social: Instagram: instagram.com/sniffiesapp X: x.com/sniffiesapp TikTik: tiktok.com/@sniffiesapp Follow the hosts: Gabe Gonzalez: instagram.com/gaybonez Chris Patterson-Rosso: instagram.com/cprgivesyoulife Guests featured in this episode: Alex Cheves: instagram.com/badalexcheves/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Today on Valentine In The Morning: Listeners share the compliments they'll never forget—the ones that stuck with them for years. Then, things get a little tricky as we ask: is it annoying when your friend follows your ex on social media, or are you totally fine with it?Listen live every weekday from 5–10am Pacific: https://www.iheart.com/live/1043-myfm-173/Website: 1043myfm.com/valentineInstagram: @ValentineInTheMorningFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/valentineinthemorningTikTok: @ValentineInTheMorning

Ryan and Andrew kick things off by tackling the shocking decline in peanut allergies—yes, you read that right. Then it's all about WWE Saturday Night's Main Event, featuring four title matches and two major title changes that rocked the roster. From in-ring highlights to behind-the-scenes storylines, the duo gives their full recap and brutally honest review. Next, they dive into the John Cena “Last Time is Now” Tournament, a blockbuster announcement to determine Cena's final opponent before retirement in December. Finally, the guys break down the entire WWE Championship landscape, ranking who's hot, who's not, and who might be next in line for gold. It's a jam-packed, peanut-free episode of Somewhere in the Ring!

Stop feeling like roommates and start feeling like lovers again! Figure out how you fell into this rut and how to change up your patterns. This solo episode gets into the themes of social dynamics, charisma, and embracing healthy obstacles as a good thing for sexual attraction. Host and Certified Sex Therapist Heather Shannon discusses the importance of healthy boundaries, having your own thing going on and putting your best foot forward no matter how long you've been togehter. She also explores the allure of open relationships, emphasizing the excitement that comes from seeing a partner embrace their sexuality and the dynamics of attraction involved.Join the new Intimacy Collective as a Founding Member --> https://heather-shannon.mykajabi.com/offers/aBom4mE2Watch the video version on YouTube: https://youtu.be/Bp9YZ4e6et4Chapters00:00 From Roommates to Lovers: Understanding the Shift02:30 Creating Attraction: The Equation of Desire10:05 Seeing Each Other as Sexual Beings17:10 Solutions to Rekindle Passion24:25 Creating Polarity and Space in RelationshipsTakeawaysBeing social and charismatic can enhance personal interactions.Compliments can boost confidence and encourage social engagement.Flirting can be a playful exploration of attraction.Open relationships can provide new perspectives on partnership.Seeing a partner's sexuality can be a turn-on for some.The idea of attraction from others can enhance relationship dynamics.Embracing one's own sexuality is important for personal growth.Social interactions can lead to deeper connections.Understanding the nuances of attraction is key in relationships.Exploring boundaries in relationships can lead to fulfillment.Keywordssocial dynamics, charisma, open relationships, sexuality, flirting, compliments, partner attractionThis podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis: Podtrac - https://analytics.podtrac.com/privacy-policy-gdrp

Don't forget to subscribe, rate this podcast & hit the notification bell so you get alerts when new episodes drop!You guys… we're embarrassed (monkey covering eye emoji)… We didn't mean to take another hiatus. But what matters is we're back and this time, we're here to stay. We SWEAR! On this week's solo episode, we cover everything from men's Instagram reel activities and AI boyfriends, to eczema where the light don't shine and… something about an Etsy witch. Our antics have never been more unstable. Buckle up and join us.. we promise we're not going anywhere! xoxo, Gavyn & Haley Follow us on socials! @gavynbailey@haleschaps@andthatsthatpodCredits: Audio Editing/Engineering by Gavyn BaileyProduced by Gavyn Bailey and Haley ChapmanAnd That's That On That contains music licensed from Artlist.io for use in this podcast. All rights reserved to the original artists and copyright holders.Chapters:00:00 Welcome Back and Reflections on Hiatus 02:44 The Journey of Trust and New Beginnings06:35 Honorable Mentions and Personal Updates08:25 Update on Gavyn's Kidney Search11:39 Pit and Peak 15:23 Witchcraft and Love Spells 24:44 The Power of Compliments 27:51 Into It & Over It 28:00 Honoring Your Inner Child30:22 Life-Changing Comforts: Air Conditioning34:01 AI Relationships40:28 Social Media and Male Behavior45:25 Closing

After Dark with Hosts Rob & Andrew – The federal government remains shut down as Senate Democrats block funding bills, leaving federal workers furloughed and vital programs at risk. Republicans push to reopen operations with short-term funding, but Democratic leaders refuse without broader spending deals. Senator John Fetterman urges compromise as Americans face growing economic strain and uncertainty from the...

Justin Trudeau's admiration for Katy Perry sparks a conversation about how celebrities handle public compliments and authenticity in their relationships. Jared dives into the fine line between genuine praise and looking like a “simp,” with nods to couples like Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce, or Meghan and Harry, who constantly face media scrutiny. From political figures to pop stars, this episode unpacks how fame magnifies every word and gesture in love. It's a funny, thoughtful take on public perception, sincerity, and the art of saying something nice without losing your edge.The best way to cook just got better. Go to http://hellofresh.com/JTRAIN10FM to get 10 free meals + a free item for life. One per box with active subscription. Free meals applied as discount on first box, new subscribers only, varies by plan.

In this empowering episode of Two Women Chatting, Michelle sits down with stylist, author, and TV presenter Nicky Hambleton-Jones to talk about bouncing back from public rejection, rediscovering purpose, and helping women feel bolder—not just older. Best known for fronting Channel 4's 10 Years Younger, Nicky opens up about being abruptly dropped from the show, how that rocked her confidence, and the bold choices she made to reclaim her voice.With warmth, honesty, and a little lipstick, Nicky shares how personal style can be a radical act of self-expression - especially in midlife.Her book Bolder, Not Older is a rallying cry for women who want to dress for confidence, not for the gaze of others. Whether you're navigating change, battling imposter syndrome, or just looking to shake up your style, this conversation will leave you feeling inspired (and maybe reaching for a red lip).Key Insights:

In this 19th of October 2025 Sunday Morning Live, Stefan Molyneux  explores the themes of choice, communication, and morality through pivotal moments in chapters 13 and 14 of his novel, "Dissolution." It emphasizes the significance of overlooked decisions and the necessity for self-awareness. He reflects on the importance of strong principles in relationships to prevent power abuse and draws parallels between diplomacy and parenting. The complexities of emotional expression and authenticity in interactions are examined, alongside the connection between criticism, love, and growth. The session concludes with a call to prioritize reason and principles in shaping a more peaceful society through everyday choices.Continue listening to the subscriber-only portion of the show here:Premium Content Hub: https://premium.freedomain.com/441d0ffa/donor-hour-why-men-get-no-complimentsX: https://x.com/StefanMolyneux/status/1979996928701087966Locals: https://freedomain.locals.com/post/7379482/donor-hour-why-men-get-no-complimentsSubscribestar: https://www.subscribestar.com/posts/2135549Freedomain Members: https://freedomain.com/donor-hour-why-men-get-no-compliments/Not yet a subscriber?You can subscribe on:X: https://x.com/StefanMolyneuxLocals: https://freedomain.locals.com/support/promo/UPB2025Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.com/freedomainFreedomain: https://fdrurl.com/membersSubscribers get 12 HOURS on the "Truth About the French Revolution," multiple interactive multi-lingual philosophy AIs trained on thousands of hours of my material - as well as AIs for Real-Time Relationships, Bitcoin, Peaceful Parenting, and Call-In Shows!You also receive private livestreams, HUNDREDS of exclusive premium shows, early release podcasts, the 22 Part History of Philosophers series and much more!See you soon!

A huge heartfelt thank you to everyone who shared their photographs with me for this special ASMR project Part 2. Your trust and support means so much to me! In this first part, I'll gently trace your features, share soft and personal compliments, and connect with each of you in a tingly way. Whether your photo is here or you're simply watching, I hope this feels like time spent together. Thank you for making this possible, and for always being here ✨️.00:00 Preview and thank you02:13 Daphna08:00 Angelina11:56 Otso-Olavi17:04 Didintle21:33 Louise ASMR25:26 Megan30:03 Tascha34:33 Smexa40:26 Taijah 44:51 Macie50:04 Chrissy ASMR53:40 Alison#ASMR #GentleWhispering

In our chat, we dive headfirst into everything from the mind-boggling art of circular breathing in music to the age-old debate of optimism versus pessimism. We even manage to make financial management sound funny—because, let's face it, money is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, especially when cryptocurrency gets involved. We reminisce about the good ol' days of roller skating and the joys (and injuries) of parenting. We also take a moment to laugh at ourselves while trying to master the art of accepting compliments—because who knew self-worth could be so complicated? Our conversation meanders through the hilarity of societal norms, like why certain drinks are "gendered," and we even touch on the evolution of Botox from beauty to medicine. And, of course, we can't forget the fall's impact on nature and the ridiculousness of cleaning products. It's a wild ride, but hey, that's just how we roll!