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Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

In this 2021 episode, Barbara Flood joined us to discuss her passion for fashion that spans her 1960s and 70s modeling career as a "Gernreich Girl" into the present day.  Want more Dressed: The History of Fashion?  Our website and classes Our Instagram Our bookshelf with over 150 of our favorite fashion history titles Dressed is a part of the AirWave Media network Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Recorded live at the Chicago History Museum, “librarian of clothing” Jessica Pushor takes us behind the seams of her exhibition Dressed in History: A Costume Collection Retrospective. On view at the museum until July 27th, 2025, the exhibition celebrates the museum's incredible 50,000+ fashion and textile collection, but also the many people who have shaped its existence for the past 100 years.  Recommended Listening: Jessica's two-part 2021 Dressed interview about Chicago fashion history can be listened to here and here.  Want more Dressed: The History of Fashion?  Our website and classes Our Instagram Our bookshelf with over 150 of our favorite fashion history titles Dressed is a part of the AirWave Media network Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Plan-B Show with Brock & Kiki - July 8th 2025See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

When Maria's young son started playing with an “imaginary friend” named Rusty, it seemed innocent—until she realized Rusty wasn't like the others. Dressed in strange old clothes and arriving through a spirit board, Rusty's presence coincided with strange activity: shadowy figures, a creeping beast in the cellar, and a woman seen climbing the stairs. But nothing chilled Maria more than when her son confided that the devil watched him sleep at night This is a daily EXTRA from The Grave Talks. Grave Confessions is an extra daily dose of true paranormal ghost stories told by the people who survived them! If you have a Grave Confession, Call it in 24/7 at 1-888-GHOST-13 (1-888-446-7813) Subscribe to get all of our true ghost stories EVERY DAY! Visit http://www.thegravetalks.com Please support us on Patreon and get access to our AD-FREE ARCHIVE, ADVANCE EPISODES & MORE at http://www.patreon.com/thegravetalks

Seleccionamos discos favoritos editados -o presentados aquí abajo- en la primera mitad de 2025.Playlist;(sintonía) I JEZIAK and THE SURFERS “Night owls”LOS PEPES “Paradise” (Out of the void)CLEAN LINES “Nuisance”AWEFUL KANAWFUL “Horse with no name” (Endless pleasures)EL GOBIERNO “Vicio o virtud” (Flipe VI)THE EXCITEMENTS “Brand new nothing” (Hard times)LOS MEJILLONES TIGRE “Mejor que tú” (Me gustó más el libro)THE ALLNIGHTERS “Big Brother” (Big Brother)THE VIOLET MINDFIELD “Distorted portrait” (Distorted portrait)THE THINGZ “Dressed in rags” (From A to Z)MICKY and THE BUZZ “Back from hell”FEEDBACKS “Hate is all around” (Bring back the light)FLATHEAD “I won’t be satisfied” (ST)ZACK KEIM “Alice” (Battery Lane)BRAD MARINO “Not fooling me” (On the brink)EXFAN “Para nada” (Rave 53)LAS GÓNADAS feat JUANITO WAU “Orujo"Escuchar audio

Date: July 6, 2025Speaker: Mickey Connolly

The Dressed Bookshelf has over 150 fashion history titles and counting! This week, we highlight some our favorite recent additions. Books discussed in the episode: Azzedine Alaia: A Couturier's Collection Claire McCardell:  The Designer Who Set Women Free by Elizabeth Evitts Dickenson Dress History of Korea: Critical Perspectives on Primary Sources, ed. Kyunghee Pyun and Minjee Kim Fashion & Motherhood: Image, Material, Identity, ed. by Laura Snelgrove, Lauren Downing Peters and Darnell-Jamal Lisby Fashion in American Life, ed. Hazel Clark and Lauren Downing Peters Perfection: 400 Years of Women's Quest for Beauty by Margarette Lincoln The Modern Venus: Dress, Underwear and Accessories in the late 18th Century Atlantic World by Elisabeth Gernerd The Red Dress: Conversations in Stitch by Kirstie Macleod and voices from the embroidery project  Want more Dressed: The History of Fashion?  Our website and classes Our Instagram Our bookshelf with over 150 of our favorite fashion history titles Dressed is a part of the AirWave Media network Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Original Air Date: May 18, 1951Host: Andrew RhynesShow: The Lone RangerPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Brace Beemer (Lone Ranger)• John Todd (Tonto) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Music:• Ben Bonnell Exit music from: Roundup on the Prairie by Aaron Kenny https://bit.ly/3kTj0kK

Original Air Date: May 18, 1951Host: Andrew RhynesShow: The Lone RangerPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Brace Beemer (Lone Ranger)• John Todd (Tonto) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Music:• Ben Bonnell Exit music from: Roundup on the Prairie by Aaron Kenny https://bit.ly/3kTj0kK

This week, we re-examine two Brian De Palma classics: the sexy slasher Dressed to Kill (1980) and the gripping Blow Out (1981). We'll uncover how De Palma masterfully draws from Giallo's dark heart and stylistic flair to craft dazzling displays of danger, dripping with suspense and oh so much style.#BrianDePalma #DressedToKill #BlowOut #Giallo #FilmAnalysis #MoviePodcast #HorrorMovies #ThrillerFilm #Cinephile #80sMovies #CultClassics #FilmMaking #Suspense #PodcastLife #NeoNoir Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Track Listing 01 Intro (You Better be Ready to Kill Me) 02 Dressed to Kill 03 Suits or Robes 04 The Boule 05. Medical Apartheid 06. Strange Angel 07. Compensatory Code 08. Heist 09. ICE 10. High Value Target 11. We All High 12. Guerilla Warfare 13. If looks could kill

Track Listing 01 Intro (You Better be Ready to Kill Me) 02 Dressed to Kill 03 Suits or Robes 04 The Boule 05. Medical Apartheid 06. Strange Angel 07. Compensatory Code 08. Heist 09. ICE 10. High Value Target 11. We All High 12. Guerilla Warfare 13. If looks could kill

Track Listing 01 Intro (You Better be Ready to Kill Me) 02 Dressed to Kill 03 Suits or Robes 04 The Boule 05. Medical Apartheid 06. Strange Angel 07. Compensatory Code 08. Heist 09. ICE 10. High Value Target 11. We All High 12. Guerilla Warfare 13. If looks could kill

Track Listing 01 Intro (You Better be Ready to Kill Me) 02 Dressed to Kill 03 Suits or Robes 04 The Boule 05. Medical Apartheid 06. Strange Angel 07. Compensatory Code 08. Heist 09. ICE 10. High Value Target 11. We All High 12. Guerilla Warfare 13. If looks could kill

Today's episode of the sunshine would like to take this time to thank each of you for supporting and sharing the sunshine, which is God's word to encourage you to press on toward the Mark of the high calling. May God bless you and keep you this day and I hope that you will share your sunshine.

Trainwreck of The Day Tuesday 7/1/25

Ever wanted to know how Uptown Funk was made? Mark Ronson tells us! Are you a once in a lifetime, generational talent? Call us and prove it! Pet psychic Jacqui tells us EXACTLY what she needs to be able to find Will dressed as a pussy. Can you hear it - $100 per can is back! Lingo Bingo See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

What do you do when life takes an unexpected turn? Are you dressed for the detour God might be calling you into?Pastor Nick unpacks the story of Joshua the high priest in Zechariah 3 and Philip's spirit led encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8. Through these stories, we're reminded that we must take off the filthy rags of our past and clothe ourselves in the power of the Holy Spirit.To learn more about Cross Points, check out our website: http://crosspointschurch.comTo stay up to date, check out our social media:Instagram: @crosspointskcFacebook: Cross Points ChurchYoutube: CrossPointsKCTwitter: @crosspointskc

Today's episode includes: everything. Plus, at the very end, a blooper where I start laughing because on the inside, I'm twirling.  www.minervasweeneywren.com, @megmccauleyink | Instagram I write for free and for the love of it, but if you'd like to donate to cover fees, that's @minervasweeneywren on Venmo. :)  Thank you for joining us, friend. You are welcome in this whimsical universe. Minerva Sweeney Wren has other podcasts and stories for you to enjoy. Meet Maude, the Magic Unusual from 1921, who stumbles into a world of supernatural gangsters, true friends, and plague mask thingies in MCGILLICUDDY AND MURDER'S PAWN SHOP. Darren Curtis wrote the intro music. Please thank him! See you next time!

Show #1108 Blues For Lost Time 01. All Things Swamp - Blues For Ben (4:34) (Dressed, Little Village Records, 2025) 02. Jeffrey Halford & the Healers - Beauty In You (3:42) (Kerosene, Shoeless Records, 2000) 03. Devon Allman - The Blues Is A Feeling (3:48) (The Blues Summit, Ruf Records, 2025) 04. Rebecca Downes - Falling Into You (3:58) (Single, Mad Hat Records, 2025) 05. Buddy Guy - How Blues Is That (4:23) (Ain't Done With The Blues, RCA/Silvertone Records, 2025) 06. Alvino M. Bennett (ft. Kelly's Lot) - Rearranging The World (4:01) (Single, self-release, 2025) 07. Sean Poluk - There's No More Time (3:35) (Gamut, self-release, 2025) 08. Brandon Santini - Ain't Turning Back (4:23) (Which Way Do We Go?, MoMojo Records, 2025) 09. The Commoners - Devil Teasin' Me (6:54) (Live In The UK, Gypsy Soul Records, 2025) 10. Joanne Shaw Taylor - Blackest Day (8:17) (White Sugar, Ruf Records, 2009) 11. Kerry Kearney - Off To The Jubilee (2:34) (The Kerry Kearney Band, Paradiddle Records, 2025) 12. Singa B - Nothing New (4:41) (Single, self-release, 2025) 13. Mannifesto - Humankind (5:16) (Single, self-release, 2025) 14. JB Sol & the Blue News - Next Time (4:17) (From The Vault, Blame Records, 2025) 15. The Freedom Affair - Picking Up The Pieces (4:16) (The Freedom Affair, self-release, 2025) 16. Carolyn Wonderland - Tattoos As His Talisman (3:29) (Truth Is, Alligator Records, 2025) 17. James Jones - Johnny Keep Rollin' (3:10) (Single, self-release, 2025) 18. Joe Hodgson - Since You Had A Hold On Me (4:13) (Fields Of Redemption, self-release, 2025) 19. Bizz Bigsby - Here In This Town (4:24) (Single, self-release, 2025) 20. Tony Davis - Sphere Of Blues (7:16) (Jessamine, La Reserve Records, 2025) Bandana Blues is and will always be a labor of love. Please help Spinner deal with the costs of hosting & bandwidth. Visit www.bandanablues.com and hit the tipjar. Any amount is much appreciated, no matter how small. Thank you.

In this message, we unpack three vital pieces of the armor of God—the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit. Learn how faith intercepts the fiery arrows of fear and doubt, how salvation protects your mind and secures your identity in Christ, and how the Word of God is your weapon to fight back against every lie of the enemy. Spiritual warfare is real—God has given you everything you need to stand firm in the battle.

Adeline Atlas 11 X Published AUTHOR Digital Twin: Create Your AI Clone: ⁠https://www.soulreno.com/digital-twin⁠AI + Future Technology Series: ⁠https://www.soulreno.com/ai-future-tech-series⁠Soul Series: ⁠https://www.soulreno.com/soul-series⁠Magic + Occult Series: https://www.soulreno.com/magic-occult-series-1a5a4abd-07ae-4bd5-97da-da4580f3c75aManifestation Series: ⁠https://www.soulreno.com/manifestation-series⁠Truth Series: ⁠https://www.soulreno.com/truth-series⁠The Chosen Ones: ⁠https://www.soulreno.com/the-chosen-ones-series⁠Freebies: ⁠https://www.soulreno.com/freebies⁠Instagram:⁠https://www.instagram.com/soulrenovation/⁠Sos Vault:⁠https://www.soulreno.com/joinus-202f0461-ba1e-4ff8-8111-9dee8c726340⁠FREE - SOCIAL VAULT

Moringa, also known as a drumstrick tree, is known for its nutritious leaves and pod-like vegetables. At Marari Beach, in Kerala, India, we learn how to make Muringakka Nirachu Kettiyathu. This dish is made by blanching and pan frying stuffed moringa pieces. Dressed with yogurt, chili, fried moringa leaves and crispy papadam. Watch the full documentary and find recipes here! https://www.plantforwardkitchen.org/india

Man dressed in Scooby Doo costume robs a Convenience Store

Internationally beloved teacher, mentor, and fashion authority Tim Gunn returns to Dressed to discuss his sixteen seasons at Project Runway and the origins of his famous catchphrase "Make it work." Want More Tim Gunn: Tim's Instagram Tim's 2022 Dressed Interview Want more Dressed: The History of Fashion?  Our website and classes Our Instagram Our bookshelf with over 150 of our favorite fashion history titles Dressed is a part of the AirWave Media network Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The UFO known as the buga sphere was recovered in March. Recently there are claims that the sphere was almost stolen by men dressed as police. There are alos claims that this sphere is the proof of alien life. What do we make of it? Kristian Harloff gives his thoughts. #ufo #ufos #uap #uaps #drone #buga #news 

As we continue our series on the Life of the Warrior, Maria brings us a powerful message about some key skills for the battle. In Psalm 144:1 we read: "Praise be to the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle." David knew the secret to victory! Before you defeat your Goliath, before you go to war, before you move the mountain... we must undergo training! Our mindset for the battle truly matters, and we must arm our minds with this understanding. More than anything, we must choose to be trained. We must decide to follow “God's program” to become great warriors! David understood the key to producing radical warriors, and it wasn't about training with spears and swords; it was in the secret place! He taught his men to be adored by God—to be embraced with the intimacy of Heaven. They were anointed because they pursued the anointing! They recognised that the secret to overcoming was intimacy with God. Many people are hesitant to fully exercise their authority these days for a variety of reasons, with a significant one being the fear of being cancelled. Maria shared ten reflexes for warfare fitness! Ten responses to stay ahead of the battle. We enforce the victory because He is the victory! We are on the winning team with Jesus! "Let the weak say- I am strong!"

In this message, Dressed for Battle, Pastor Russ helps us discover how to stand strong in spiritual warfare by putting on the armor of God—truth, righteousness, and peace—as described in Ephesians 6. Learn how to defend against the enemy's lies and walk in confidence, fully equipped for the unseen battle.

At Bethany, We are God's People who are: Gathered! Connected! Sent!We want to connect with you through this Podcast! Leave us a comment! Tell us where you are at! Leave a Review to help our audience grow!--26 They landed in the region of the Gerasenes across from Galilee. 27 When Jesus stepped out on the shore, a certain man from the city met him. The man was possessed by demons and had not worn clothes for a long time. He would not stay in a house but lived in the tombs. 28 When he saw Jesus, he shouted, fell in front of him, and said in a loud voice, “Why are you bothering me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you not to torture me!” 29 Jesus ordered the evil spirit to come out of the man. (The evil spirit had controlled the man for a long time. People had kept him under guard. He was chained hand and foot. But he would break the chains. Then the demon would force him to go into the desert.) 30 Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He answered, “Legion [Six Thousand].” (Many demons had entered him.) 31 The demons begged Jesus not to order them to go into the bottomless pit. 32 A large herd of pigs was feeding on a mountainside. The demons begged Jesus to let them enter those pigs. So he let them do this. 33 The demons came out of the man and went into the pigs. Then the herd rushed down the cliff into the lake and drowned. 34 When those who had taken care of the pigs saw what had happened, they ran away. They reported everything in the city and countryside. 35 The people went to see what had happened. They came to Jesus and found the man from whom the demons had gone out. Dressed and in his right mind, he was sitting at Jesus' feet. The people were frightened. 36 Those who had seen this told the people how Jesus had restored the demon-possessed man to health. 37 Then all the people from the surrounding region of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave because they were terrified. Jesus got into a boat and started back. 38 The man from whom the demons had gone out begged him, “Let me go with you.” But Jesus sent the man away and told him, 39 “Go home to your family, and tell them how much God has done for you.” So the man left. He went through the whole city and told people how much Jesus had done for him. --GWhttp://www.bethanylutheran.org⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://www.facebook.com/Bethany.Long.Beach⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.youtube.com/c/BethanyLutheranLongBeach

Negotiated cash fed cattle trade was mostly inactive on moderate demand in all major cattle feeding regions through Thursday afternoon, according to the Agricultural Marketing Service. So far, this week, FOB live prices are $4-$6 lower in Nebraska at $236/cwt. and $3-$4 lower in the western Corn Belt at $236-$238. Dressed delivered prices are [...]

This week, baseball nerds across the internet (there are ones of us!!) are participating in a fan exchange, just to see how the other side lives. As a die hard and lifelong fan of the White Sox, Mariners, Padres, Dodgers, Brewers, Giants fan, I am too, but just by switching who's number one. Go Brewers. Love Salvatore. This episode, we're talking about Kurano's I Cross-Dressed for the IRL Meetup published by Kodansha and Sumiko Arai's The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All published by Yen Press. I Cross-Dressed for the IRL Meetup credits Translator: Jocelyne Allen Letterer: Paige Pumphrey Editor: Tiff Joshua TJ Ferentini Editorial Assistance: Naseem Alavi Managing Editor: Dasia Payne Production Manager: Angela Zurlo The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All credits Translation: Ajani Oloye Lettering: Brandon Bovia As always, you can find me on bsky @nidokorn, and my co-hosts Helen (@WanderinDreamr) and Apryll (@manjiorin) on bsky at those places in the parenthesis. You can find both of their writing at The Organization of Anti-Social Geniuses, more of Helen's writing at Narrative Investigations, and my writing at the Fandom Post and Awko Tako. Join the unofficial Taiiku Podcast discord, the OSMCast discord. Used with permission. Forgot to mention this on the podcast, but The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All has an official playlist on Spotify. Listen Show notes: 0:58 - We talk about I Cross-Dressed for the IRL Meetup 13:36 - We talk about The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All Next time is Let's Go Karaoke! and The Summer Hikaru Died

Throughout the Bible, the concept of marriage is used as an image of the relationship between Christ and His church. This week, we look at the parable of the wedding feat in Matthew 22:1-14, in which Jesus alludes to the wedding supper of the Lamb found in Revelation. Through this parable, Jesus demonstrates the consequences of apathy, the lavishness of God's call to us, and the importance of Jesus' imputed righteousness. What does it mean to "put on Christ?" How does our own self-righteousness get in the way? Cody Wilbanks unpacks this and more.We will resume our Matthew series in the fall as we pause for a summer of guest speakers and standalone sermons.

On December 20th, 1980, 19-year-old Jean Hilliard experienced what doctors call medically impossible. After her car slid off an icy road in rural Minnesota during a blizzard with temperatures at -22°F, Jean made the difficult decision to walk two miles through whiteout conditions to reach her friend Wally Nelson's farmhouse. Dressed only in cowboy boots and a winter coat, she battled brutal winds and life-threatening cold for over an hour. In a cruel twist of fate, Jean collapsed just 15 feet from Wally's front door, where she lay face-down in the snow for six hours. When Wally found her the next morning, she was frozen solid - literally crystallized, with her body rigid as a board and her skin hard as stone. Hospital staff initially thought he was bringing them a corpse, as her body temperature was too low to register on their thermometers and they couldn't find a pulse or blood pressure. Yet incredibly, Jean not only survived but made a complete recovery with no amputations or permanent damage. After 49 days of observation, she walked out of the hospital completely healthy, leaving medical professionals baffled. This episode explores the science behind her miraculous survival, featuring insights from hypothermia expert Dr. Gordon Giesbrecht (aka "Professor Popsicle"), and examines how Jean returned to a normal life after becoming briefly famous as "The Miracle Girl from Lengby, Minnesota." 0:00 Introduction to Case Knives 00:32 Welcome to the Crux True Survival Story Podcast 00:53 Introducing Jean Hilliard's Incredible Survival Story 01:39 The Fateful Night Begins 03:47 Jean's Struggle Through the Blizzard 10:05 The Collapse and Discovery 15:12 The Medical Miracle 18:25 Wally Nelson's Dilemma 21:39 Arrival at the Hospital 23:38 The Fight for Survival 24:54 Ruff Greens 26:47 Primitive Rewarming Methods in the 1980s 28:22 Jean's Miraculous Recovery Begins 31:10 Jean's Unbelievable Survival 33:26 The Science Behind Hypothermia Survival 41:35 Jean's Life After the Incident 45:55 Professor Popsicle and Hypothermia Research 50:36 Final Thoughts on Human Resilience Email us! thecruxsurvival@gmail.com Instagram https://www.instagram.com/thecruxpodcast/ Get schooled by Julie in outdoor wilderness medicine! https://www.headwatersfieldmedicine.com/ References for Jean Hilliard's Story Montreal Gazette - "Frozen Solid Teen Girl on Way to Full Recovery" (December 30, 1980) The New York Times - "Dakota Teen-Ager Recovers After Being 'Frozen Stiff'" (January 2, 1981) Thirteen Towns newspaper, Fosston - Local coverage with headline "Woman, 19, baffles doctors: Terrible frozen ordeal has happy ending" MPR News (Minnesota Public Radio) - "Frozen. Thawed. Not dead: Jean Hilliard's amazing Minnesota story" (January 25, 2018) All That's Interesting - "Jean Hilliard: The Woman Who Froze Solid And Thawed Back To Life" (May 25, 2021) ScienceAlert - "Amazing True Story: The Woman Who Survived Being 'Frozen Solid'" (October 23, 2023) Snopes.com - "Jean Hilliard: Miracle on Ice" (February 18, 2015) - Fact-checking article confirming the story's authenticity Almanac.com - "Frozen Stiff: A True Story of Winter Survival" Bushcraft Buddy - "Jean Hilliard - Surviving being frozen" (September 22, 2024) Your Weather UK - "The story of a woman who survived being frozen for 6 hours" (September 29, 2022) Outside Magazine - "Meet Dr. Popsicle, Hypothermia Expert" and "Meet Prof. Popsicle" (Multiple dates) McGill University Office for Science and Society - "Professor Popsicle's Physiological Proof" (February 17, 2023) Pacific Yachting - "Cold Water Shock and Hypothermia" (June 20, 2024) - Details on 1-10-1 Principle Sage Journals - "Prehospital treatment of hypothermia" by Gordon G. Giesbrecht (2001) Wally Nelson - Multiple interviews over the decades, including 2018 MPR interview, providing firsthand account of discovering Jean Jean Hilliard herself - Various interviews from 1980s through present day, including Today Show appearance Today Show appearance - Jean Hilliard interviewed by Tom Brokaw (1981) Unsolved Mysteries - Television episode featuring Jean's case

Dressed for Glory (Exodus 28 & 39)

Get our premium episode archive: https://www.patreon.com/ieltssfs You should say: who he/she is, how you knew him/her, what his/her dressing style is, and explain why he/she dresses this way. Tune in and have a great day! - Book a class with Rory here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://successwithielts.com/rory⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Our course on Phrasal Verbs: https://successwithielts.com/podcourses Transcript: ⁠⁠⁠⁠Sign up for our archive to get access to the transcript⁠⁠⁠⁠ Find an IELTS Speaking Partner: https://links.successwithielts.com/ieltspartner Our social media: https://linktr.ee/successwithielts © 2025 Podcourses Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You can hear episodes early and get access to all of our giveaways for only $4 on HeroHero! Go support the show!We're back this week with our wonderful friend Tanya Ravichandran! Join Michael and Sol as they discuss the incredible team at Coach, Tanya's love for Ann D., how to host the perfect runway show, why all the guys in New York dress like shit, making the Margiela 5 Zip Exodia, Lee Alexander McQueen, some grails still eluding her collection, her wonderful boyfriend Roman's style, getting hangry, the direction of high fashion today, what it was like to work as a photographer at 14, and the very simple process to blowing up on the internet!Thanks again to Tanya for an amazing episode, and we hope you enjoy!SolSol Thompson and Michael Smith explore the world and subcultures of fashion, interviewing creators, personalities, and industry insiders to highlight the new vanguard of the fashion world. Subscribe for weekly uploads of the podcast, and don't forgot to follow us on our social channels for additional content, and join our discord to access what we've dubbed “the happiest place in fashion”.Message us with Business Inquiries at pairofkingspod@gmail.comSubscribe to get early access to podcasts and videos, and participate in exclusive giveaways for $4 a month Links: Instagram TikTok Twitter/X Sol's Substack (One Size Fits All) Sol's Instagram Michael's Instagram Michael's TikTok

Dressed for the Fight, Rooted in TruthWhen life feels like a storm and everything is pulling at your peace, how do you stay standing? In this episode, we have a real conversation about spiritual warfare, resilience, and what it means to live fully armed with the truth of God's Word. Drawing from Ephesians 6:13–17, we break down the Armor of God in practical, heart-level ways.Whether you're battling self-doubt, bitterness, or trying to hold it all together, this episode reminds you that you're not just meant to survive. You're meant to thrive. We discuss how to protect your heart, speak life over yourself, and recognize when the enemy is using your own words against you.This is more than spiritual talk; it's strategy for real life. And it starts with letting God heal what's been hidden, broken, or ignored.

The boys reminisce about those beautiful summer nights on the baseball diamond and the unmatched personality of a baseball dugout. Adam then brings some pizza chatter questions and the boys are annoyed by Adulting 101. Hut Hut Media producer extraordinaire, Josiah, then stops by the hot seat for a fun conversation sharing his journey to learning video editing and the hilarious videos he made as a kid. Ped & Burk enjoy one of the most fun topics yet, an all-time game shows draft, before closing the show with a scheduled call to their girlfriends. Hut Hut! Love y'all.

We trust Tom Cruise one last time with Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning and also talk Dressed to Kill, Bring Her Back, Fear Street: Prom Queen and 28 Days Later.

On today's Saturday Matinee, we unspool the history of childrenswear in the 16th-19th centuries to learn how safety features first started to be developed in toddler clothing.Link to Dressed: https://dressedhistory.com/ Support the show! Join Into History for ad-free listening and more.History Daily is a co-production of Airship and Noiser.Go to HistoryDaily.com for more history, daily.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Today we introduce you to one of our favorite history podcasts, History Daily. And one of the reasons that we think you all will enjoy History Daily's content is we share a common belief as they say that “History is human.” History Daily finds the overlooked and often forgotten human stories behind the names and dates of ordinary history.  Which we love! Please enjoy these two fifteen minute History Daily episodes on historical figures for whom fashion and dress played somewhat of defining role in their lives… a couple of sassy lady pirates and then after the sponsor break, an episode about Marie Antoinette's husband, King Louis XVI. Happy listening and Dressed will be back as regularly scheduled next week. Want more Dressed: The History of Fashion?  Our ⁠⁠⁠website⁠⁠⁠ and ⁠⁠⁠classes⁠⁠⁠ Our ⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠ Our ⁠⁠⁠bookshelf⁠⁠⁠ with over 150 of our favorite fashion history titles Dressed is a part of the ⁠⁠⁠AirWave Media⁠⁠⁠ network. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Our latest edition of "Fashion History Now" is an around the world journey. From Japan to Australia to New York, we shine the spotlight on documentaries, exhibitions, and ethical products that celebrate fashion's past, present and future.  To enjoy: ⁠Hazel Village's⁠ ethically made woodland animals  To follow:  Keita Motoji's Linkedin Instagram: @kimonoreborntokyo, @tokyokimonoshoes To visit/attend:  Chicago History Museum's Dressed in History exhibition Live recording of Dressed in Chicago Sargent and Paris at The Met in NYC Fashion and Interiors: A Gendered Affair at Momu Antwerp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Episode 622. The Magic is Back! Alain Bellicha Releases ANOTHER Book… KISS at BUDOKAN! 50 years ago, KISS debuted in Japan with the release of Dressed to Kill on Victor Music. KISS's success spread like wildfire. In March 1977, their first tour shook Japan to its core. KISS played four shows at Tokyo's Nippon Budokan […]

***This show is brought to you by DistroKid. Go to http://distrokid.com/vip/the500 for 30% off your first year!*** From 1974 to 1975, Kiss released three albums: Kiss, Hotter Than Hell, and Dressed to Kill. The albums helped establish a cult following for the band but were commercial failures. Paul, aka “Star Child” joins Josh to discuss the decision to release an album that captured their live energy, which turned out to be a breakthrough for the band. Follow Paul on Social Media: https://www.instagram.com/paulstanleylive/ https://www.facebook.com/PaulStanleyOfficial/ https://www.tiktok.com/discover/paul-stanley https://www.paulstanley.com/ DistroKid Artist Of The Week: Solitary Friends https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLGB6BVgbVM Follow Josh on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/joshadammeyers/ Follow Josh on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@joshadammeyers Follow Josh on Twitter: https://twitter.com/JoshAdamMeyers Follow Josh on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/joshameyers Josh's Website: https://www.joshadammeyers.com/ Follow The 500 on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the500podcast/ Follow The 500 on Twitter: https://twitter.com/the500podcast Follow The 500 on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/The500PodcastWithJAM/ Email the show: 500podcast@gmail.com Check the show's website: http://the500podcast.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

05-20-25 - BR - TUE - List Of 10 Least Paying Jobs By Degree - Poll On Sending Back Restaurant Food - Cat Caught Trying To Smuggle Drugs Into Prison - French Town Sets Record For People Dressed As SmurfsSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.