Podcasts about Dark Forest

Hello to you listening in Jakarta, Indonesia!Coming to you from Whidbey Island, Washington this is Stories From Women Who Walk with 60 Seconds (and a bit more) for Motivate Your Monday and your host, Diane Wyzga.As the old ones say, “If we are not grateful for what we have in this present moment, what makes us think we will be happy with more?”  Maybe it's true and maybe it isn't but long ago and far away there lived a man in a small country village. He had everything he had ever asked for: friends, livelihood, wife, family - and yet and yet something was stirring in him: Looking around he asked himself, Is this all there is? Perhaps I am meant for something more, something better. Perhaps I should go and seek my happiness outside the village.One summer morning he left his home, carefully closed the garden gate behind him and walked away. He walked for miles and miles until he could no longer see where he had been. Night fell and he found himself deep in a dark forest. Having no other shelter he took off his shoes, spread his coat on the ground, and fell asleep against the trunk of a tree for he was very tired.Watching him sleep his angel shook her head at the folly of his adventure. But what could she do? She could turn his shoes around facing them back in the direction from which he came. And so she did.When the man awoke he pulled on his coat, put his feet into his shoes and began to walk. After many miles of walking the man began to see familiar fields, a few farmhouses, a village - all looking very much like what he had left; but how could that be? People in the village market greeted him as if he was familiar to them; but how could that be? Arriving at a cottage with a garden gate he was startled to be greeted by children and a woman as if he were their long lost father and husband; but how could that be? They welcomed him inside, took off his shoes, sat him at a table very much like one he knew, fed him food that tasted like home; but how could that be?To this very day the man lives with that family in that home in that village and wonders, “If this isn't happiness, what is?”  As the old ones say, “If we are not grateful for what we have in this present moment, what makes us think we will be happy with more?”  You're always welcome: "Come for the stories - Stay for the magic!" Speaking of magic, I hope you'll subscribe, share a 5-star rating and nice review on your social media or podcast channel of choice, bring your friends and rellies, and join us! You will have wonderful company as we continue to walk our lives together. Be sure to stop by my Quarter Moon Story Arts website, check out the Services, arrange a no-obligation Discovery Call, and stay current with me as "Wyzga on Words" on Substack.Stories From Women Who Walk Production TeamPodcaster: Diane F Wyzga & Quarter Moon Story ArtsMusic: Mer's Waltz from Crossing the Waters by Steve Schuch & Night Heron MusicALL content and image © 2019 to Present Quarter Moon Story Arts. All rights reserved.  If you found this podcast episode helpful, please consider sharing and attributing it to Diane Wyzga of Stories From Women Who Walk podcast with a link back to the original source.

Programa conducido por Darío Lavia y Chucho Fernández.Fotogramas: "Son of Frankenstein" (1939) de Rowland V. LeeIlustraciones: David Muirhead BoneActo I: "En aquella vieja ermita" de José Mallorquí (parte I) 0:02:04Bitácora 1: Abanico de colecciones 0:08:48Bitácora 2: Antecedentes de "Narraciones Terroríficas" 0:10:12Acto II: "Intermedio Pulp" de Pedro Porcel (El Abuelito) 0:12:09Bitácora 3: Contexto de "Narraciones Terroríficas" 0:20:02Acto III: "En aquella vieja ermita" de José Mallorquí (parte II) (conclusión) 0:21:56 Fuentes de los textos: José Mallorquí, "En aquella vieja ermita", en "Narraciones Terroríficas" #1 (Buenos Aires, 10/06/1939) de Editorial MolinoPedro Porcel, "Viñetas infernales: Cien años de cómic de terror" (Desfiladero Ediciones, 2023)Cortinas: Music used: "CHAOS WALKING" composed and produced by "Vivek Abhishek"Music link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7UOltoHoR8QMusic used: "The Dark Forest " composed and produced by "Vivek Abhishek"Music link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3agbTAU68jcMusic used: "A HAUNTING IN FOREST" composed and produced by "Vivek Abhishek"Music link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eq1A9fr4hPIMusic used: "The Dark Room" composed and produced by "Vivek Abhishek"Music link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GbCAC1z754Music used: "Lost in the Woods" composed and produced by "Vivek Abhishek"Music link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPYaNQPZDBcMusic used: "The Long Walk" composed and produced by "Vivek Abhishek"Music link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLTJE4Q-4IcVivek Abhishek: https://bit.ly/3qumnPHFollow on Facebook: https://bit.ly/33RWRtPFollow on Instagram: https://bit.ly/2ImU2JVDesfiladero Edicioneshttps://desfiladeroediciones.com/Tributo Narciso Ibáñez Mentahttps://www.instagram.com/narciso_ibanez_menta/Imdbhttps://www.imdb.com/title/tt39061502/Web de Cineficción⁠http://www.cinefania.com/cineficcion⁠/Fan Page de Cineficción⁠https://www.facebook.com/revista.cineficcion/

We are starting with the building blocks of what its like to first journey through the the light of your purpose and the darkness that's at the very beginning. I encourage you all to not avoid going through the unbeaten path to seek mediocrity but search the greatness with yourselves! Serve Your Purpose!!!Book References:Inferno, Canto I-Dante AlighieriGenesis 12:1-3Republic, Book Seven-PlatoThe Ascetical Homilies Of St. Isaac The Syrian-52nd HomilyCollaborationWorld Of Purpose WhiteboardMiro App:https://miro.com/app/board/uXjVMqzyVG4=/?share_link_id=703476590324Purpose Served Social Media:Instagram- https://www.instagram.com/purpose_servedTwitter-https://twitter.comFacebook:https://www.facebook.com/purpose.serv...Become a Memberhttps://www.purposeserved.com/forumPurpose Served Website:https://www.purposeserved.comEmail:servedpurpose@gmail.comEmail UsSupport the show

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

Grandfather Nurgle har vist sig fra sin nådige side og Jimi har rejst sig fra sygelejet efter at have overvundet den frygtelige Man-Flu. Der er således gået 14 dage siden sidste podcast, så nyhederne er ikke så nye længere, men til gengæld har vi været vidt omkring. Casper nyder at få lov at dykke dybt... Læs mere

11e émission de la 63e session...Cette semaine on est dans le post-bop! En musique: Ted Curson sur l'album Blue Piccolo  (Whynot, 1976); Russ Macklem sur l'album Introducing: the Russ Macklem Detroit Quintet  (TQM, 2025); Omer Avital sur l'album New York Now & Then  (Zamzama, 2025); Chris Byars Sextet sur l'album The Dark Forest  (SteepleChase, 2025); Brandon Sanders sur l'album Lasting Impression  (Savant, 2025); Chico Freeman sur l'album Spirit Sensitive  (India Navigation, 1979)...

The Night Dark Forest by Jasper by 826 Valencia

Here are three notable statements by Avi Loeb regarding the interstellar object 3I/ATLAS (also known as C/2023 A3). 1. It could be technological or engineeredLoeb proposes that 3I/ATLAS might not be a simple natural object, but one with artificial or engineered features. Example quotes:He writes that “this object could be technological, and possibly hostile as would be expected from the ‘Dark Forest' resolution to the Fermi Paradox.” He suggests that if it “generates its own light, then it could be much smaller than expected …” Loeb also suggests the trajectory may be “fine-tuned” or “optimized” for a visit through our Solar System rather than a random interstellar path. His position is one of possibility, not firm conclusion; he often emphasizes that the scenario is unlikely but worth considering because of its implications.2. It shows several “anomalies” compared to known comets or interstellar objectsLoeb has pointed out multiple features that he claims cannot be easily explained under typical comet/asteroid models. Some specific anomalies he highlights:Its trajectory is close to the ecliptic plane (i.e., aligns within ~5° of the planetary orbital plane) — this, he argues, makes a random entry statistically unlikely. It produced a “sunward jet” or anti-tail (i.e., an emission or structure pointing toward the Sun) which he says is atypical for known comets. It exhibits an “extreme negative polarization” signature (a polarization measurement of –2.77 % at a particular phase angle) which he says is significantly different from all known comets. He also notes compositional oddities: in his blog he mentions, for example, a large nickel:iron ratio and small water fraction in the outgassed material. In short: Loeb treats 3I/ATLAS as anomalous, and argues that such anomalies elevate interest in the artificial-origin hypothesis.3. While it may be artificial, we mustn't ignore the natural hypothesisEven though Loeb emphasizes the possibility of an artificial origin, he is careful to maintain that the most probable outcome still remains that 3I/ATLAS is a natural object. For example:In a blog post, he wrote: “As of now, 3I/ATLAS appears most likely to be a natural comet. But the remote possibility … must be considered seriously as a black-swan event with a small probability, because of its huge implications for humanity.” Similarly, in press coverage he is quoted: “By far, the most likely outcome will be that 3I/ATLAS is a completely natural interstellar object, probably a comet.” He therefore positions his artificial-origin hypothesis as speculative, but worth preparing for — especially given the stakes if such a hypothesis turned out to be true.30 Day Free Trial Of 4biddenknowledge.TV 30 Day Free Trial On 4biddenknowledge.TVSupport the show

Here are three notable statements by Avi Loeb regarding the interstellar object 3I/ATLAS (also known as C/2023 A3). 1. It could be technological or engineeredLoeb proposes that 3I/ATLAS might not be a simple natural object, but one with artificial or engineered features. Example quotes:He writes that “this object could be technological, and possibly hostile as would be expected from the ‘Dark Forest' resolution to the Fermi Paradox.” He suggests that if it “generates its own light, then it could be much smaller than expected …” Loeb also suggests the trajectory may be “fine-tuned” or “optimized” for a visit through our Solar System rather than a random interstellar path. His position is one of possibility, not firm conclusion; he often emphasizes that the scenario is unlikely but worth considering because of its implications.2. It shows several “anomalies” compared to known comets or interstellar objectsLoeb has pointed out multiple features that he claims cannot be easily explained under typical comet/asteroid models. Some specific anomalies he highlights:Its trajectory is close to the ecliptic plane (i.e., aligns within ~5° of the planetary orbital plane) — this, he argues, makes a random entry statistically unlikely. It produced a “sunward jet” or anti-tail (i.e., an emission or structure pointing toward the Sun) which he says is atypical for known comets. It exhibits an “extreme negative polarization” signature (a polarization measurement of –2.77 % at a particular phase angle) which he says is significantly different from all known comets. He also notes compositional oddities: in his blog he mentions, for example, a large nickel:iron ratio and small water fraction in the outgassed material. In short: Loeb treats 3I/ATLAS as anomalous, and argues that such anomalies elevate interest in the artificial-origin hypothesis.3. While it may be artificial, we mustn't ignore the natural hypothesisEven though Loeb emphasizes the possibility of an artificial origin, he is careful to maintain that the most probable outcome still remains that 3I/ATLAS is a natural object. For example:In a blog post, he wrote: “As of now, 3I/ATLAS appears most likely to be a natural comet. But the remote possibility … must be considered seriously as a black-swan event with a small probability, because of its huge implications for humanity.” Similarly, in press coverage he is quoted: “By far, the most likely outcome will be that 3I/ATLAS is a completely natural interstellar object, probably a comet.” He therefore positions his artificial-origin hypothesis as speculative, but worth preparing for — especially given the stakes if such a hypothesis turned out to be true.

On today's episode of the SKIDS PODCAST; the Skids discuss the mass hysteria going on in places like Portland, OR and other blue cities; SNAP benefits ending soon, unless the government gets up and running before hand, and the crazy behavior of those who are in danger of losing it; 3I/Atlas continues to make experts confused, we discuss the newest developments; Conspiracy Corner: The Montauk Project. And so much more!!Coffee Brand Coffee -https://coffeebrandcoffee.com/Use the coupon code: gps1 to get 5% off your purchase.  You will be supporting an independent, growing company, as well as our show in the process!!#skids #skidspodcast #gps #garbagepailskids #montaukproject #camphero #conspiracy #snap #ebt #foodstamps #benefits #3Iatlas #darkforest #louve #robbery #portland, or

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We spend 90 minutes heading on over to Barnbuster Video to watch a hillbilly Ringu tape from a SECOND hillbilly Jigsaw in this, the shocking conclusion to the two-part Dark Forest finale!  ---------------------------------------------------------- Robert will go to jail if you don't buy his book. I know what you're thinking... This is NOT the time to be a wise guy. BUY HIS BOOK. https://linktr.ee/killyourimaginaryfriend

Why does Jeff have a skull up his nose? Why is Buck locked up in a dancer's cage? Why are they still in the Dark Forest? Are we really gonna eat all this deer poop? All these questions and more will likely be forgotten as the AIMS Team gets distracted in part one of this two-part finale! ---------------------------------------------------------- Robert will go to jail if you don't buy his book. I know what you're thinking... This is NOT the time to be a wise guy. BUY HIS BOOK. https://linktr.ee/killyourimaginaryfriend

Send us comments, suggestions and ideas here! In this week's episode we wrap our grey matter into a catcher's mit to intercept the fastest known object to ever race through our solar system, 3i/Atlas, a comet of interstellar origin which is both currently on its way to Earth and causing no small handful of people on it to speculate if it is not just of alien origin, but the beginning of a full-blown invasion. In the first half of the show we focus on the spiritual significance of comets throughout history by looking at the ways various cultures dealt with their appearance peppered with some basics from modern science. Why do comets have big-hair energy and whip it back and forth, for instance; wrapping up with an in-depth look at the enduring mystery of the WOW! Signal, a communication of intergalactic origin from the same region of the sky 3i/Atlas was first spotted. In the extended side of the show we discuss some of the hard science and hard speculation that science can tell us about 3i/Atlas itself. Is it a big rock with a number of record breaking qualities or an alien space ship disguised as one? Finally, Tim takes us through the The Dark Forest to ponder the Fermi Paradox and the unfathomably large void our galaxy teeters on before Heka Astra explores the spiritual significance of 3i/Atlas specifically from an astrological perspective and how it might effect us. Thank you and enjoy the show! In this week's show we discuss:Hale BoppHeaven's GateHalley's Comet Through History 3I/Atlas Information, Is It A Mothership?!The WOW! SignalIn the extended side of the show available at www.patreon.com/TheWholeRabbit we go further to discuss:The Dark Forest TheoryThe Local HoleDark Matter and Dark Energy vs MOND3I/Atlas' Strange Hyperbolic Orbit? Unusual Luminosity3I/Atlas' Astrology!Each host is responsible for writing and creating the content they present. Luke in red, Heka in purple, Tim in green, Mari in blue. Where to find The Whole Rabbit:Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/0AnJZhmPzaby04afmEWOAVInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/the_whole_rabbitTwitter: https://twitter.com/1WholeRabbitOrder Stickers: https://www.stickermule.com/thewholerabbitOther Merchandise: https://thewholerabbit.myspreadshop.com/Music By Spirit Travel Plaza:https://open.spotify.com/artist/30dW3WB1sYofnow7y3V0YoSources:WOW! Signalhttps://earthsky.org/space/wow-signal-explained-comets-antonio-paris/https://gizmodo.com/astrophysicists-may-have-found-the-source-of-mysterious-wow-signal-2000487953Heaven's Gate:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heaven%27s_Gate_(religious_group)Comets:https://university.awakenche.org/knowledge-base/comets-and-their-astrological-influence-harbingers-of-change/Support the show

Turning bad luck into good luck, The Drake Equation, and Aliens. Join The Wizard this week; you could change your life!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The dark forest hypothesis is the conjecture that many alien civilizations exist throughout the universe, but they are both silent and hostile, maintaining their undetectability for fear of being destroyed by another hostile and undetected civilization. It is one of many possible explanations of the Fermi paradox, which contrasts the lack of contact with alien life with the potential for such contact. The hypothesis derives its name from Liu Cixin's 2008 novel The Dark Forest, although the concept predates the novel.Help us buy a camera:https://ko-fi.com/monsterfuzzSupport the pod:www.patreon.com/monsterfuzz Check out our merch:https://monster-fuzz.creator-spring.com Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/monster-fuzz--4349429/support.

My guest is Yancey Strickler, an author and former music critic. He is a co-founder of Metalabel as well as a co-founder and previously the CEO of Kickstarter. We discuss the new shape of online culture. Dark Forest spaces are gated digital communities, often curated around a specific niche or field of expertise. They represents a retreat from open social media into private spaces, where users may have complex and context-rich conversations. You can get access to the full catalog for Doomscroll and more by becoming a paid supporter: www.patreon.com/joshuacitarella joshuacitarella.substack.com/subscribe

The darker the forest, the brighter the philosophy! Despite all odds, we press on against the horrors of both the fictional and our real universe to talk about what happens when you try to do sociology AT SCCCCCCAAAAAAALLLLLLEEEEEE! Besides parsing the end of the book, we parse the precepts of Dark forest and whether it holds water, what are plausible objections, and what does this tell us about the reality of conflicts at smaller scales. The Dark Forest: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dark_Forest Support us at Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/0G Join our Facebook discussion group (make sure to answer the questions to join): https://www.facebook.com/groups/985828008244018/ Email us at: philosophersinspace@gmail.com If you have time, please write us a review on iTunes. It really really helps. Please and thank you! Music by Thomas Smith: https://seriouspod.com/ Sibling shows: Embrace the Void: https://voidpod.com/ Content Preview: Death's End pt.1 and the Ethics of Survival

A Florida school board member gets (virtually) body-slammed by Hulkamaniacs after celebrating Hulk Hogan's passing on social media—proving that even in death, the Hulkster still knows how to lay the smackdown. Meanwhile, Trump's economic winning streak continues as trade deals stack up faster than Jim Cramer's false predictions. But the real showstopper? A tenured Harvard professor claims a comet hurtling toward Earth is actually an alien probe that's been traveling for 800 million years just to get a peek at our solar system. Brad breaks down the astronomical stupidity of this theory while David contemplates whether this is exactly why federal funding to Harvard should be cut immediately. It's another episode where the hosts clear a “Dark Forest” of lies with the machete of truth—and remind you why you should never trust anyone just because they appear on a screen (or a podcast).

Cristina Gomez takes a deep dive into the latest information regarding Interstellar Object 3I/Atlas and the possibility it is an artificial spacecraft from another civilization as postulated by Professor Avi Loeb, as well as the author of the Three Body Problem comments on the Dark Forest theory, and scientist Beatriz Villarroel on why stars are disappearing, plus other news updates.00:00 - 3i/Atlas: Manhattan-Sized Mystery03:18 - Alien Probe or Natural Comet?05:05 - Dark Forest Theory Explained07:00 - Perfect Timing for Reconnaissance08:34 - Artificial Object Implications09:57 - First Contact or False Alarm?Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/strange-and-unexplained--5235662/support.

Dans cet épisode explosif, on plonge dans les coulisses d'Ethereum avec Jonathan, chercheur chez Flashbots. On y décortique la MEV (Maximal Extractable Value), un mécanisme qui redistribue les cartes du pouvoir dans la DeFi... et pas forcément en ta faveur. Tu découvriras comment certains acteurs s'enrichissent en silence, les menaces de centralisation, et les solutions émergentes comme MEV-Boost, BuilderNet ou encore CoW Swap.Un épisode essentiel pour comprendre ce qui se joue vraiment derrière chaque transaction sur Ethereum.

More Space Opera! We're back it with the Three Body Problem series, talking about the second book in the series. For part one, we're covering the nature of the wallfacer project and how to approach a threat that's 400 years away. Part two will be all about cosmic sociology and the dark forest theory! The Dark Forest: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dark_Forest Support us at Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/0G Join our Facebook discussion group (make sure to answer the questions to join): https://www.facebook.com/groups/985828008244018/ Email us at: philosophersinspace@gmail.com If you have time, please write us a review on iTunes. It really really helps. Please and thank you! Music by Thomas Smith: https://seriouspod.com/ Sibling shows: Embrace the Void: https://voidpod.com/ Content Preview: The Dark Forest pt.2 and cosmic sociology

In episode seventy-two, Caveman and Maggi journey to the Dark Forest with Puss In Boots: The Last Wish. Can this sequel to a spin-off of a sequel possibly be the best of all the Shrek films? Is it possibly the best animated film ever? Find out today!Follow our Instagram, Threads, & Letterboxd accounts @movieminglepodCheck out our YouTube channel, MovieMinglePodcast here...Questions? Comments? Write us at movieminglepod@gmail.com

Blast off with us as we dive into Netflix's Three Body Problem—where cosmic mysteries and existential dread meet alien civilizations in the terrifying Dark Forest theory. From the show's mind-bending rabbit holes, thought-provoking journey through humanity's place in the universe, and what happens when the universe finally answers back. Whether you're a sci-fi nerd, an alien skeptic, or just looking for the next binge-worthy show, this discussion will leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about life among the stars.What to expect from the episode:A deep dive into Netflix's Three Body Problem, including its core sci-fi theories (the Fermi Paradox, Dark Forest Theory, and the titular three-body problem) and how these concepts are dramatized for TVHonest reactions to the show's origins, adaptation choices, and characters—with comparisons to the book trilogy and candid takes on Game of Thrones creators' involvementSpirited tangents about alien media, first contact scenarios, and philosophical musings on humanity, science, and what real-life alien disclosure could mean for our worldEpisode Chapters:00:00:00 – Introduction and Why Three Body Problem Surprised Us00:04:21 – Cosmic Silence: The Fermi Paradox & Dark Forest Theory00:07:59 – The San-Ti Signal: Synopsis and First Contact00:10:25 – Ye Wenjie's Journey: Trauma, SETI, and Defiance00:17:59 – Alien Threat: Sofons, Sabotage, and the Race to Respond00:20:32 – The VR Game and Solving the Unsolvable00:23:44 – Can We Coexist? The San-Ti's Shift Toward War00:26:19 – Judgment Day: Nanowires and Scientific Warfare00:28:25 – Humanity Fights Back: Wallfacers and Secret Plans00:31:03 – What Are the San-Ti? AI, Collective Minds, and Spores00:36:58 – Aftermath and Season One's Endgame00:48:05 – Will's Fate00:53:25 – Book vs. Show: What's Changed?00:57:43 – Spoiler Zone: Darker Cosmic Forces and Galactic Peril01:04:25 – Looking Ahead: Season Two, Themes, and Questions01:09:42 – Alien Disclosure and Real-World Reactions01:14:47 – Should We Be Sending Signals?01:27:55 – Who Is Three Body Problem For?01:29:30 – Final Reflections on Contact and Survival----------The Cinedicate on InstagramThe Cinedicate's Discord Community Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Dark Forest™ holds many mysteries, including copyright infringement/childhood trauma super combos! There's nonsense, bickering & partner swapping afoot in this week's episode of BIGFEETS!

Hey Midnighters,Episode 157 has landed. Every track, every artist, every drop is a reflection of the energy we're building together. Week by week, you show up from all corners of the world, and together, we keep pushing techno forward.We open with Pepe (HU)'s "Dark Forest", setting the mood with deep textures and late-night tension. Luca Morris follows with "Inside the Body", bringing that hypnotic groove straight from Italy's vibrant scene. Murch and Newest deliver "Memories", a track that strikes a perfect balance between melody and drive.Push drops "Microgravity" on Filth On Acid, powerful and unmistakable. Then comes a heavy collaboration from Wehbba and Victor Ruiz with "Silo", followed by the relentless energy of Dok & Martin's "Believe". Every selection this week is a statement.Jonas Neo's "Eternity" gets a bold rework from Ozzy Riot, while Andy Kay's "Gravity" grounds us with intensity and precision. Space 92 and Malena Narvay ignite things with "Formula Loca", one of the freshest bangers in the mix. Alan Fitzpatrick and Joyhauser team up for the emotional punch of "Forgiveness", Horatio brings a raw edge with "It's Time To Stop", and we close with David Pulido's storming "Arena".Now, here's where you come in.I want you to be part of what comes next. Got a track you think belongs on the show? A producer you believe in? Send it my way. Tag me, message me, drop your suggestions. This community powers the Midnight Project, and your voice shapes the sound.Explore the full playlist and let's keep building the future of techno together:

The AIMS team have entered a new paradigm, a stupid realm known only as, "The Dark Forest" among cast and crew. The boys are on the hunt for... the Raven Mocker? Wait.. maybe the little ghost girl? Er.. AH! The Black Wolf! Whaddya mean "...the what?" The Black Wolf! No... no that's not it. It's Jeff's dignity! The deadliest prey. It's another piss soaked free for all on this week's episode of BIGFEETS!

Twin Peaks: the Return: the DECODE episode 4.SONNY JIM IS BACK IN. Full stop. June 1st, 2025 has arrived. We all knew this day would come. 2000 years ago, when the first western savior was born to a virgin in a manger beneath the Star of Bethlehem, the prophecy was set in motion: "Yay, verily, a special child would rise again when the world of shadows most needs him. This savior of the 3rd age wouldst appear impossibly from behind the door of red, in the Court of Lancelot. His name shalt be known only as "Sonny Jim." And Sonny Jim shalt be back on in. " And now it has finally come to pass....Join Post Relevant Podcast hosts Phil Ristaino and Justin Epifanio as we decode Twin Peaks: the Return episode 4. We seek to understand the adventures of Dougie Jones, aka Mr Jackpots, as he wins $425,000.00 and then pees, fails to dress himself, stares in the mirror, eats pancakes, and most importantly, amuses his angel of a son, the impossible boy known to one and all as Sonny Jim.Also: We marvel over Michael Cera as Marlin Brando. We ponder the color yellow. We remember the owls (are not what they seem. ) We talk extra low. We are exonerated in Courts of Law. We watch "A Boy and His Atom" while failing to observe electrons. And we try to fix our hearts or die.And, in the extra secret end section, we debate what might happen if we met ETs in a Dark Forest.But really, I'm just being coy, because this episode is all about the debut of the spanking new smash hit song (in Sweden) entitled "Sonny Jim (Is Back In)." It will change your life and show you how your heart can also be 'so full.'Prepare the way, young warrior! The moment of Post Relevance hath finally arrived! The End of the End of Time is Nigh! Prepare ye! Prepare ye! Just do it already....Listen to all episodes of the PRP at www.PostRelevant.comCheck out Phil's acting/art/music at www.TheseAreDreams.comGet the full 5-D PRP experience: https://www.instagram.com/philristaino/Get the PRP "Under the Silver Lake" tribute shirt at Spyrodon Apparel:https://spyrodon.store/products/phil-ristaino-artist-edition-for-the-post-relevant-podcast-under-the-silverlakeenter 'postrelevant' at checkout for 10% off.Donate to the show: https://buymeacoffee.com/postrelevantJustin's doc: www.instagram.com/heyoka.documentary/All the songs on this episode come from the Polypores albums "ECCO."Get Polypores albums  on Bandcamp: https://polypores.bandcamp.com/"Sonny Jim (Is Back In)" written by Phil Ristaino with Justin Epifanio. The musical track for this song is called "Savior Above" and was written by Ketsa. Find all Ketsa's music at https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Ketsa/PRP theme song by Agents of Venus: https://agentsofvenus.bandcamp.com/David Lynch forever...

Get ready for a spine-chilling horror story that will leave you on the edge of your seat! Campers beware, as a terrifying tale unfolds in the dark forest. This creepy pasta will send shivers down your spine and keep you awake at night. If you enjoy true scary stories and reddit horror stories, this is one you won't want to miss!

On this episode of Crazy Wisdom, I, Stewart Alsop, spoke with Neil Davies, creator of the Extelligencer project, about survival strategies in what he calls the “Dark Forest” of modern civilization — a world shaped by cryptographic trust, intelligence-immune system fusion, and the crumbling authority of legacy institutions. We explored how concepts like zero-knowledge proofs could defend against deepening informational warfare, the shift toward tribal "patchwork" societies, and the challenge of building a post-institutional framework for truth-seeking. Listeners can find Neil on Twitter as @sigilante and explore more about his work in the Extelligencer substack.Check out this GPT we trained on the conversation!Timestamps00:00 Introduction of Neil Davies and the Extelligencer project, setting the stage with Dark Forest theory and operational survival concepts.05:00 Expansion on Dark Forest as a metaphor for Internet-age exposure, with examples like scam evolution, parasites, and the vulnerability of modern systems.10:00 Discussion of immune-intelligence fusion, how organisms like anthills and the Portuguese Man o' War blend cognition and defense, leading into memetic immune systems online.15:00 Introduction of cryptographic solutions, the role of signed communications, and the growing importance of cryptographic attestation against sophisticated scams.20:00 Zero-knowledge proofs explained through real-world analogies like buying alcohol, emphasizing minimal information exposure and future-proofing identity verification.25:00 Transition into post-institutional society, collapse of legacy trust structures, exploration of patchwork tribes, DAOs, and portable digital organizations.30:00 Reflection on association vs. hierarchy, the persistence of oligarchies, and the shift from aristocratic governance to manipulated mass democracy.35:00 AI risks discussed, including trapdoored LLMs, epistemic hygiene challenges, and historical examples like gold fulminate booby-traps in alchemical texts.40:00 Controlled information flows, secular religion collapse, questioning sources of authority in a fragmented information landscape.45:00 Origins and evolution of universities, from medieval student-driven models to Humboldt's research-focused institutions, and the absorption by the nation-state.50:00 Financialization of universities, decay of independent scholarship, and imagining future knowledge structures outside corrupted legacy frameworks.Key InsightsThe "Dark Forest" is not just a cosmological metaphor, but a description of modern civilization's hidden dangers. Neil Davies explains that today's world operates like a Dark Forest where exposure — making oneself legible or visible — invites predation. This framework reshapes how individuals and groups must think about security, trust, and survival, particularly in an environment thick with scams, misinformation, and parasitic actors accelerated by the Internet.Immune function and intelligence function have fused in both biological and societal contexts. Davies draws a parallel between decentralized organisms like anthills and modern human society, suggesting that intelligence and immunity are inseparable functions in highly interconnected systems. This fusion means that detecting threats, maintaining identity, and deciding what to incorporate or reject is now an active, continuous cognitive and social process.Cryptographic tools are becoming essential for basic trust and survival. With the rise of scams that mimic legitimate authority figures and institutions, Davies highlights how cryptographic attestation — and eventually more sophisticated tools like zero-knowledge proofs — will become fundamental. Without cryptographically verifiable communication, distinguishing real demands from predatory scams may soon become impossible, especially as AI-generated deception grows more convincing.Institutions are hollowing out, but will not disappear entirely. Rather than a sudden collapse, Davies envisions a future where legacy institutions like universities, corporations, and governments persist as "zombie" entities — still exerting influence but increasingly irrelevant to new forms of social organization. Meanwhile, smaller, nimble "patchwork" tribes and digital-first associations will become more central to human coordination and identity.Modern universities have drifted far from their original purpose and structure. Tracing the history from medieval student guilds to Humboldt's 19th-century research universities, Davies notes that today's universities are heavily compromised by state agendas, mass democracy, and financialization. True inquiry and intellectual aloofness — once core to the ideal of the university — now require entirely new, post-institutional structures to be viable.Artificial intelligence amplifies both opportunity and epistemic risk. Davies warns that large language models (LLMs) mainly recombine existing information rather than generate truly novel insights. Moreover, they can be trapdoored or poisoned at the data level, introducing dangerous, invisible vulnerabilities. This creates a new kind of "Dark Forest" risk: users must assume that any received information may carry unseen threats or distortions.There is no longer a reliable central authority for epistemic trust. In a fragmented world where Wikipedia is compromised, traditional media is polarized, and even scientific institutions are politicized, Davies asserts that we must return to "epistemic hygiene." This means independently verifying knowledge where possible and treating all claims — even from AI — with skepticism. The burden of truth-validation increasingly falls on individuals and their trusted, cryptographically verifiable networks.

Immerse yourself in the powerful sound of heavy rainstorms for two hours of deep relaxation. The steady downpour and rumbling ambiance create the perfect backdrop for sleep, meditation, or intense focus. Ideal for unwinding, masking distractions, and embracing nature's raw energy.Lose the AD intros by becoming a subscriber!https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/asmr-rain-recordings--5347561/support

Going to a Dark Forest by Sebri by 826 Valencia

Dan has another run in with a weird boi (9:35 to skip). Is everyone in the future a big dummy or did they do a big mass mental seal day off camera? Starship Earth rocks and I can’t wait to hear about the reunion in a couple millenia. Next week we’re starting Wind and Truth by Brandon Sanderson! Special thanks to VOLO for the intro and outro music.The post The Dark Forest: Part Three first appeared on Don't call it a book club..

Old Ninja and Prodigy is out this week. It starts with just Kr0nus. This week we talk about Trump, Astrobot, Books, Libraries, Oakland Zoo Glofari, The Dark Forest, Squid Game Season 2, Harley Quinn Season 5, the TikTok ban, Meta, Inauguration performance fallout, Sakamoto Days, Binging vs Weekly releases, and more! Come follow us: http://www.beenhadproductions.com/bthanbti SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/bthanbtiI Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BthanBTI/ Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/bthanbti Twitter: @BthanBTI iTunes: https://itun.es/i6SJ6Pw YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/BlackerThanBlackTimesInfinity Rescue + Residence https://www.rescueresidence.org/ Donate: https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=34F4G4ZXQL8FA

Movie watch (9:34 to skip)! Luke and Dan are not impressed. Get wallbroken, nerds. Special thanks to VOLO for the intro and outro music.

ONLY AVAILABLE FOR PATRONS: Carlton joins to discuss Cixin Liu's REMEMBRANCE OF EARTH'S PAST books: THE THREE BODY PROBLEM (2006年) + THE DARK FOREST (2008年) + DEATH'S END (2010年). Moreover, Chinese Space Communism, looming political menace, the looming doom of humankind, science and art, love as a solution to math. (ISP S5.E07) For the full episode and weekly episodes of SIRENS, join us at patreon.com/imsopopular

This year was a great one for the Future Commerce podcast. We vision-casted with fellow futurists at exclusive events across the nation, launched podcast specials like Spooky Commerce and FC Radio Theater, and were joined on the podcast by many of our industry muses, including Kickstarter's Yancey Strickler and Walmart's Justin Breton. We've rounded up our 2024 highlight reel in one year-end finale episode. All featured episodes linked below.The Good, the Spooky, and the VisionaryFeatured Episodes:When Technology Changes, Context Changes (February 6, 2024)You Can Buy Haunted Dolls on eBay (October 11)After Dark: Luddite Luxury, Acorn-Based Economies, Starbucks Star Days as Economic Indicator (February 21, 2024)The Tyranny of Visibility (February 13, 2024)DECODED: Polymaths and Philosophers (May 13, 2024)Building Culturally Intelligent Brands (May 17)What is Futureproof for Gen Alpha? (June 7, 2024)Don't Say Metaverse (August 23)How Liquid Death is Murdering Marketing (July 7)The Dark Forest of Creative Capital (December 6)Associated Links:Check out Future Commerce on YouTubeCheck out Future Commerce+ for exclusive content and save on merch and printSubscribe to Insiders and The Senses to read more about what we are witnessing in the commerce worldListen to our other episodes of Future CommerceHave any questions or comments about the show? Let us know on futurecommerce.com, or reach out to us on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or LinkedIn. We love hearing from our listeners!

Yancey Strickler on Metalabel, Digital Scarcity, and the Coming Creative RevolutionKickstarter co-founder Yancey Strickler unveils his vision of a radical economic future where artists become society's power brokers. Through Metalabel, he's building the infrastructure for collective commerce and creative ownership that could transform how we value and exchange culture.“In 50 years, artists won't just influence culture—they'll control capital”Key takeaways:{00:13:10} - “The concept of art and creativity that we think of today that we take as givens that we're like, “Oh my God, I have to promote my drop again today,” are incredibly modern inventions.” - Yancey{00:24;51] - “I believe {this project} will produce a world where 50 or 60 years from now, artists and creative people are the most powerful members of society. They will have the greatest influence. They will have the greatest access to wealth. They will be the most powerful people in society, and this is a structure by which that will occur. And that's a project we'll announce next year.” - Yancey{00:26:20} - “We all want to be able to homestead and have our own spaces that are ours, but we also want to be part of spaces where we can be discovered. And so how can our catalogs exist in a world like that? Artists right now are excluded from capitalism. Let's change that.” - Yancey{00:28:53} - “People are still just looking in the dead channel, the dying channels…where we've been trained to look for what is new and what matters. And the answer is that that's not where those things are happening now.” - Yancey{00:38:09} - “Anyone who's 20 years old today, born and raised on the Internet, there's just like a mentality, a metamodern, just flat openness, super well-curated sort of vibe that I just think lends itself quite well to operating very specific, but I think very successful, small to medium-sized creative businesses.” - YanceyAssociated Links:Pre-order the LORE Journal by Future Commerce on MetalabelConnect with Yancey Strickler and learn more about MetalabelThe Dark Forest CollectiveKirby Ferguson's New York Times piece, Is Creativity Dead?Check out Future Commerce on YouTubeCheck out Future Commerce+ for exclusive content and save on merch and printSubscribe to Insiders and The Senses to read more about what we are witnessing in the commerce worldListen to our other episodes of Future CommerceHave any questions or comments about the show? Let us know on futurecommerce.com, or reach out to us on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or LinkedIn. We love hearing from our listeners!

Hi everyone! I couldn't let my favorite day of the year go by without giving everyone a Halloween treat. So here's an extra bonus mini episode. It's both a dark true crime story out of Japan, as well as a story that might make you a believer in ghosts. Notes: https://www.scmp.com/news/asia/east-asia/article/2058684/how-gruesome-photos-memory-stick-revealed-identity-killer-who https://medium.com/lessons-from-history/the-path-she-took-miyakos-last-walk-d213bf941f91 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

There's no scarier setting for an unsolved mystery then in the woods. They're old, they're big and they're alive with all sorts of creatures and stories. Today we're digging into 5 of the strangest ones out there. Her are 5 Dark Forest Mysteries.