Podcasts about glimpses

This sermon was preached by our Lead Pastor Paul Smith on Joshua 5:13–15 and is part of our series Glimpses of Grace: Jesus in the Old Testament.

This sermon was preached by our Lead Pastor Paul Smith on Genesis 32:24–30 and is part of our series Glimpses of Grace: Jesus in the Old Testament.

[This episode originally aired on January 31, 2023] A common idea about the spiritual path is that it is punctuated by gigantic breakthroughs, by big revelations  •  but many deep and important insights don't come in that way; they come in through glimpses  •  glimpses can be sudden or they can just kind of seep in; they are little openings or gateways into a sense of the whole  •  in some ways glimpses are similar to a jigsaw puzzle  •  we have all these pieces, and we have little insights that this piece fits into that, or this piece doesn't fit into that  •  we begin to put some things together and we kind of swim around and we don't really know actually where it's going to end up  •  but eventually, step by step, the complete picture begins to emerge  •  the whole notion of practice and study is that we're deepening our understanding, but it doesn't happen in a linear fashion  •  it happens through glimpses, and sometimes those glimpses can be shocking; they can completely upset our whole view of things.

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

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

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

Guest Speaker - Rabbi Yehoshua Liff - Rav Eliezer Menachem Shach Zatzal: Personal Glimpses Into This Historic Torah Figure by Shapell's Rabbeim

Leaving the checklist for grace.“My work is done here,” Jesus told Kristen Hale as she hobbled to the altar at the Mormon temple's healing service. Jesus would gently lead her out of Mormonism and heal her–-body, mind and Spirit.In part 1, learn how Kristen grew up in a devout Mormon home, with a strict bishop father and the heavy weight of performance based love. Listen as she explains some tenets of Mormonism. See how Kristen's zeal for Mormonism even brought her to witness to Christian friends. Glimpses of Mormonism's incongruity began to reveal themselves after a devastating death in the family with a cold response.Kristen's Recommended Resources:From Mormon to God: The Story of a Mormon Girl Turned to God's GraceKirsten's website, FromMormontoGodHelpful definitions of Mormon terms vs. Christian termsKristen's book on POTS, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia SyndromeKristen's Children's books on talking to friends who are different:https://a.co/d/1gw1ND6https://a.co/d/e1MnZG2https://a.co/d/aJVjVJmGod Loves MormonsHow accurate is the Bible?Standing Up to POTS.orgEx-Mormon Christians Facebook groupTruth in Love, how to witness to MormonsSean McDowell Podcast on MormonismLet us know what you thought of the show!Follow One80 on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or our website.Never miss a One80. Join our email list. Follow us on Instagram.Share One80, here's how!OneWay Ministries

Lesson 6 - The One Who Came to SufferMark 8:27-9:47. Truly the turning point of Mark's Gospel, the question Christ posed in Mark 8:29 — “Who do you say I am?” — altered the disciples' journey. Peter's glorious confession — “You are the Messiah” — led to the sobering call to follow that Messiah to their own cross of sacrifice and death. Glimpses of glory on the mountain were eclipsed by jealous arguing among the disciples. And they were left to consider Christ's serious warning that if not dealt with, pride and selfish ambition could ruin many.To learn more about Michele or to support this international ministry please visit https://intheword.com

Dr. Crane shares from Mark 15 the story of Jesus on the cross, where we see the different reactions of the people involved and learn what it means for us to carry our own crosses today.

Send us a textThe Ramirez Brothers will recap the Chargers game versus Tennessee Titans. The Bolts take home the 27-20 victory but it was ugly especially after the offense and special teams gave up 14 points. Joe Alt and Bobby Hart left the game early with injuries, so a struggling offensive line lost two key figures. The defense had lapses of inconsistency but for the most part played a solid game. The trade deadline looms and the Chargers might need to make several calls. Don't miss it.COMPAS ON THE BEAT MERCHhttps://compas-on-the-beat.myshopify.com/DONATIONS: https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=FQEW7RNJW7GNASUBSCRIBE TO THE COMPAS YOUTUBE CHANNELSCompas on the BeatCombat CompasWhat's Up BoltsHouse of HornsFOLLOW THE COMPAS ON SOCIALTikTok: @compasonthebeatInstagram: @compasonthebeatTwitter: @CompasOTBTwitter: @gmanzano24Twitter: @realframirez

Ep 157: October 29, 2025 - Why is truth about 3I-ATLAS hidden by click-bait? Interview with Mark Wood,  U.S. Navy Captain (Ret) List of 3I/ATLAS anomalies   ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Why I am a Christian? Right mouse click to save/download this testimony as a MP3 file The Apostle John, writing in 1 John 5:9-12 - "We accept man's testimony, but God's testimony is greater because it is the testimony of God, which he has given about his Son. Anyone who believes in the Son of God has this testimony in his heart. Anyone who does not believe God has made him out to be a liar, because he has not believed the testimony God has given about his Son. And this is the testimony: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life." Why Is It So? A testimony is an assertion offering firsthand authentication of a fact. For the Christian Disciple, classically it is generally expressed as how they became a Christian Disciple. But I think it is more than just how, and should expressly include why you are a Christian Disciple. I wonder what is your testimony about how you became a Christian Disciple? When was the last time you thanked our God for your testimony? Have you even thought about your testimony of how you became a Christian Disciple? I am sure you have all heard kids in the supermarket yelling out "Why?" to their parents. We all have, I am sure, questions we want to know the answer to. Why? The question I am often asked is "You are a Christian. Why is it so?" My father, was and remained throughout his life a convinced agnostic and in the few conversations we had about religion and Christianity, he could never understand why it was, that I could not just admit that I would never know if God existed or not, far less a God who was personally interested in me. I was frequently told that Churches were dangerous places and Christians merely deluded fools... My reply as ever, was that the very question "Why is it so?" needed to be answered, in order for me to be satisfied. Why I am a Christian? Now I could say that at the age of 12, we moved to a town on the coast of Australia, and was invited along to a local youth group and several weeks later, gave my life to Christ and became a Christian. Of course that is partly true. I can't even claim to be a Christian because I was raised in a Christian country. Australia was and is probably the second most secular country on this planet. Sure Australia has its moral base grounded in historic Christianity, but for the latter part of its history, Australia has been thoroughly secular and non-religious. Even if I had been raised in a country such as England, with Christian parents, that would also, only be partly true and I could have rejected Christianity as many people do. The reason that I am a Christian is not because I chased God, but rather He chased me. Unknown to me at the time, God was chasing me and following my every path with the urgency of a lover after the beloved, just as described in the Song of Songs (Song of Songs 2:2-14). God had been pursuing me This piece of poetic Scripture speaks about the love that God has for his people, and the energy He puts in to calling his people to Himself. He is always reaching out, for all to return to His arms. As for me, it wasn't until I was a 12 year old that I heard that I needed to accept Jesus as my Lord and Saviour. Before that I didn't know I had to do anything with this Jesus. Jesus was only a curse word for me at the time. That or was just someone or something that the RE teachers bored me with at school. We are primarily Christians, not because we come to church services or just happened to have been born in a supposedly Christian country. We are primarily Christians, because God first chased and harried us into His arms. We are Christians, if you are one, because God first loved you. And as a tremendous lover, He beckons and calls people all the time to respond to His call, and back to Him. How does He chase us with His love? He chases each person differently, just as each Christian testimony is different. Take for instance the Apostle Paul in Acts 8 & 9. God chased him through Paul's mind and his religious upbringing and education. Paul had known about God from his childhood. Paul was a righteous Pharisee who saw persecuting these ‘Christians' as his religious duty, so that he may somehow find favour with God. As Paul was gloating over the death of the martyr Stephen, God was pursuing Him, probably raising doubts in Paul's mind as to why Stephen would say at the point of death "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit and forgive them for what they do" (Acts 7:54-60). Surely doubts must have been raised in Paul's mind as he approved of this death (Acts 8:1). Paul was also wrestling with his conscience. Externally he was a righteous man, a Pharisee of Pharisees. Yet when he internally examined himself and his heart, he found himself failing regarding covetousness, which is the last of the Ten Commandments. Then finally, Jesus himself makes a sudden and dramatic appearance before Paul and confronts him directly, "Why are you kicking against me? Why are you rejecting my advances?" (Acts 9) Paul's conversion to Christianity is often described as being sudden. But the only thing sudden about his conversion was this climatic appearance of Jesus. Just as that was true of Paul, it is true of me, just as it is true of all those who profess to call themselves a Christian Disciple. I am a Christian Disciple not because of anything I have done, but rather because He first chased me, and because He first loved me. Jesus himself said "I came to seek and to save the lost" (Luke 19:10). If you are a Christian today, it is not because of anything you have done. It is because of the events at Christmas and Easter that you are a Christian, when God entered this world as a human baby and took all the necessary steps so that all people could have the choice to be His people or not. In my more smug moments I used to congratulate myself for being a Christian. How proud I was that I, was a Christian and that God was a jolly lucky God that I had decided to follow Him. It was during one of my less self-deluded moments, that I examined myself and I found God pricking my conscience and correcting me, and I read the New Testament "For the Son of Man came, not to be served but to give His life as a ransom for many" (Mark10:45). Right mouse click to save/download this testimony as a MP3 file

From Skeptic to Salvation (Originally recorded Sunday 21st. June, 2009 at 6:30 pm) Right mouse click to save the PDF of this testimony Right mouse click to save this Podcast as a MP3 Heavenly Father, Almighty God, please hear my prayer. Please give me now the strength, ability, and most of all, the humility, through your Holy Spirit, to say what I want to read out to this congregation, as you would want me to read and say it Lord. Please allow me to keep control of myself, and my emotions, whilst doing so. I stand humbly before you Lord God, and before your beloved Son, Christ Jesus. Amen. For 59 years of my life, I lived with faith " only in myself ".I was at best a Sceptic, at worst an Atheist. I would go right out of my way to test and very strongly argue against anyone I met, who professed to have a faith, in any sort of God. I needed nothing, but my own free will. All my faith was "only" in myself. In 2002 / 2003 my world fell apart. I was left alone to myself. All my lifelong responsibilities disappeared. I became for 2 years a solitary hermit, living in my house, completely alone. It was during this time, alone, that I started to question, :- What my life was about. What was I here for. What was the reason for my being, if there even was one. I wanted, and so needed contact with other people. I needed to talk, to be listened to, and to listen to others. We are not meant to be solitary beings we are social creatures. We so need fellowship with others, like we need food. After over 2 years of self imposed solitary confinement, I was becoming worried about losing my ability to communicate with others. It was back just before Christmas 2005, I received through my door the usual annual programme of all the Churches in my area, listing all their events, over the Christmas period. I decided to systematically visit all of them. Not to seek faith. I'm a Sceptic, an Atheist. I just want to have communication with others. I visited most of the local Churches over the coming months, and always found people to speak and listen to, but none of the Churches somehow felt right for me, until I visited " Verwood Road Evangelical Chapel ", just up the road from where I live, in Three Legged Cross. Here I felt good, " well better ". I liked the way they did things. It was not a liberal church. It was more leaning towards, a Brethren sort of fellowship, but not too hard line. There was no pomp or high ceremony, no fancy clothes or precious things to see or worship. These were ordinary people, just like me. Over the next 10 months I visited V.R.C. " on and off " at first, maybe once or twice a month and found that I liked it more and more, so I went more and more. By October 2006, I found that I was wanting to go not only every Sunday but twice on Sundays. It was at this time that I seriously decided to the best of my ability, to very fully investigate just what this Christianity was really all about. How could so many intelligent, thinking people, believe in it? For the next 6 months, I lived in the single minded state of total study of the Christian faith. I devoted all of my time to the study of the Bible and many, many books, both for and against the Christian faith. I prayed and prayed so very hard to God to give me a definite sign - a proof that God was out there and not something made-up in my own mind. I was in heartfelt tears, many, many times, asking for some proof, a miracle even, a certain sign, anything, but no sign or proof came. I was God's for the taking, but both He, and my heart, wasn't ready. In late March 2007, something happened to turn me completely off Christianity. I went from very serious " single minded seeking " with all my heart and soul, TO - " This Christianity is certainly not for me ". It is not " at all " important what " event " occurred to cause this absolute turn around. It is only important to understand that it was very strongly driven by "My Own Self Pride ". God knew that it had to be, for Him to use it, to turn this 60 year old Atheist into a Christian. It was during my very powerful, and emotional efforts, to try and take a wrong, and turn it into a right, No matter what the cost, that my eyes were turned back into myself. To see, or to start to see, that all I hated and despised in others, was also, very present in myself. I was no better, than all those that I felt the very strong need to " bring to rights " in my life. It was at this moment in time, of now seeing, just what " I Am ", that my life changed forever. I was born on Easter Friday, Good Friday, the 4th. April. In 2007, Three days after my 60th. Birthday, at exactly 12:32 p.m. lunch-time on Easter Saturday, the 7th. April, I at last discovered, that I was nothing, undeserving of my life, A Sinner that so needed the forgiveness of God. This opened my heart to God, and at that very moment, He Came In. It was at this time, that I understood, for the very first time, the Amazing events of Easter, and that Jesus died for me, that I may have life, and live life, to the full. The next day, Easter Sunday, 2007, I took my first communion with my God. I would now like to say, that I am not a writer, I agree with " Winnie The Pooh Bear ", when he said.:- "Yes' I know all my letters, but my spelling is wobbly. It's good spelling, but it wobbles, and my letters get into the wrong places!" I'm not a poet either. I'm a practical man, an engineer. In the early hours of Easter Monday morning, 2007, at 1:30 a.m. whilst I was sat in my back porch thinking " in a daze " about what had happened to me on Easter Saturday, I picked up a pen and without thinking, wrote out the following poem. It is un-referenced, original and un-edited. It is just as it came down to me, 37 hours after finding my faith. This poem is called :- The Fellowship - ( Revealed ) I don't know where I'm going, I don't know where I've been, I don't know what's in store for me, But God has hold, to let me see. For he will surely show my way, My guide, to lead, to change each day. To give me life, I've never seen, To serve, to try, to make life clean, To hold me close, to let me go, To understand, To love me so. My God is One, with saviour Christ, He gave for me, The Total Price. My heart is found, the Ghost within, Salvation sealed, Forgiven Sin. My past remains, but all washed clean, My future comes, like it's never been. I cannot say the words I feel, Of things that are, to me so real. My sad, sad past, is gone, my futures clean, For with my eyes, new life I've seen. This gift of love, that has been given, Shall remain with me, right through to Heaven. The Fellowship - ( Revealed ) There is nothing good that can come out of me, from my own self, Self. Any good that may come from me, comes through me, from God. So please just Praise the Lord. ( Thank you.) Right mouse click to save the PDF of this testimony Right mouse click to save this Podcast as a MP3

In the 3rd installment of our Possession Series, we turn to one of the most controversial figures to bridge psychology and the paranormal: Dr. M. Scott Peck, psychiatrist, best-selling author of The Road Less Traveled, and—later in life—a reluctant believer in demonic possession.This episode explores how Peck's clinical background shaped his approach to exorcism, the patients who challenged his skepticism, and the ways he sought to reconcile science, faith, and evil. We'll look at his case studies, his insistence that genuine possession is rare, and his cautionary stance toward both blind belief and total disbelief. Then we'll ask what his work means for modern discussions of mental health, spirituality, and the human shadow.

Cover 2 with Blaine and Zach - Hour 2 - How The Titans Offense Can Turn Positive Glimpses Into Sustained SuccessSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Ep 155: Oct 15, 2025 Who are the Other Intelligences that make mysterious contact with some humans?   Who are the Other Intelligences that make mysterious contact with some humans, who are left baffled by missing time without memory of what happened? One woman's incredible visitations from childhood to adult was featured in the famous Budd Hopkins' 1987 book "Intruders: The Incredible Visitations At Copley Woods.” Now at last, using her real name, Debbie Jordan-Kauble, talks with Earthfiles Reporter and Editor Linda Moulton Howe about her “Extraordinary Contact: In Life Beyond Intruders" and her revelation that through it all her very soul has become stronger.   ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Today's Reading: Old Testament - Jeremiah 8-9Psalms - Psalm 119:9-16Gospels - John 2:1-12New Testament - James 1:1-15Visit https://www.revivalfromthebible.com/ for more information.

Sermon by Rabbi Andrew Kaplan Mandel, "Glimpses Into The Spiritual Practice of Genealogy" October 10th, 2025

Best-selling author Mary Roach is back to talk about her most recent book, "Replaceable You: Adventures in Human Anatomy- 17 Glimpses at Human Fabrication." The book explores things like hair transplants, dentures, skin grafts, prosthetic limbs, hip transplants, and more.

Justin Bieber BioSnap a weekly updated Biography.Justin Bieber has had an intriguing few days filled with business pivots, headline-grabbing social media activity, and a rare musical moment. On Friday, June 6, he unveiled a bold new monochromatic look and posted a string of moody selfies to Instagram, tagging his newly-launched clothing brand SKYLRK. The singer lounged in rich blue hues—oversized hoodie, leggings, and classic white socks—offering followers a peek into his casual side, all while watching sports with a friend. This SKYLRK launch is turning heads for more than its style. The brand steps in right as Bieber publicly and dramatically cut ties with Drew House, his previous fashion label. In an April Instagram Story, Bieber urged fans not to support Drew House, declaring it no longer represented him or his family. Notably, his wife Hailey Bieber was involved in SKYLRK's design process, according to Page Six, even teasing her favorite jacket on Instagram before the story expired. The details of SKYLRK remain elusive—the website is password-protected and the Instagram account is virtually empty—so, for now, speculation swirls as to the label's aesthetic and market ambitions. Beyond fashion, Justin Bieber's music catalogue continues to be big business. Hipgnosis Songs Management acquired Bieber's entire song catalogue in January 2023, with this asset still making headlines as Hipgnosis underwent further industry restructuring in 2025, according to Wikipedia. While Bieber himself has not commented recently, industry analysts continue to cite this massive deal among the modern music world's most significant rights sales. In terms of wealth, while he's not yet a billionaire, a recent YouTube analysis pegs his fortune around 350 million dollars in 2025—thanks to record sales, explosive tours, and investments in fashion and tech. On the public appearance front, Bieber was seen sharing sunset snaps in St Andrews, Scotland, earlier this week, giving the local Edinburgh beer a thumbs up—a gesture that generated over a million Instagram likes, reports The Scotsman. In a quieter musical moment, a short video posted on YouTube October 4 shows him playing the song Walking Away at the piano, showcasing his stripped-down artistry for fans and sparking plenty of nostalgic buzz. All in all, Bieber's week reveals a star doubling down on personal branding, selectively sharing glimpses of his music, and remaining front and center in both business dealings and the public imagination.Get the best deals https://amzn.to/3ODvOtaThis content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI

In this first part of a two-part series, Obscura takes you inside the complicated and often tragic life of Kelsey A., a young woman whose story weaves together resilience, trauma, and the weight of circumstance.From her early struggles with brain surgery and a near-fatal car accident to her years in a bootcamp and boarding school, Kelsey's life was shaped by events that altered her path in profound ways. Despite it all, she rose as a standout athlete—first on the basketball court, then in the MMA cage. But as the years went on, new battles emerged: psychiatric crises, brushes with the law, and the dark pull of choices made in desperation.Part 1 is not the story of her final day—it is the story of how she got there. By tracing her journey, we see the psychological weight she carried and the brief moments of triumph that stood out against a backdrop of adversity.This episode lays the foundation. Part 2 will plunge into the darker, more unsettling details of her final chapter.What You'll Hear in This EpisodeKelsey's early life in Cincinnati and the medical ordeal that reshaped her childhood.A devastating car accident that left lasting physical and psychological scars.Her removal from home and placement into a North Carolina bootcamp, followed by Montana Academy.Near-death experiences, including her survival after collapsing in the snow during an escape attempt.The drive and talent that turned her into a star basketball player and later an MMA fighter.Glimpses of her later years: psychiatric struggles, brushes with law enforcement, and choices that complicated her legacy.A reflection on how chance, trauma, and resilience shaped the person Kelsey became.Content WarningThis episode contains discussions of brain trauma, psychiatric crises, sex work, and law enforcement encounters. Listener discretion is advised.Closing NotePart 1 sets the stage. Part 2 will take you deeper into the grittier, unsettling details that define Kelsey's final years. Free listeners will get Part 2 next week; patrons can listen early.Our Sponsors:* Check out Chime: https://chime.com/OBSCURA* Check out Mood and use my code OBSCURA for a great deal: https://mood.com* Head to https://homeaglow.com/OBSCURA to get your first 3 hours of cleaning for only $19. Thanks so much to Homeaglow for sponsoring this episode! Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/obscura-a-true-crime-podcast/exclusive-contentAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Ep 153: Sept 24, 2025 - Is 3I/ATLAS An Alien Reconnaissance Probe? History of 3I/ATLAS object moving over 130,000 miles per hour first seen 3 months ago in August, 2025 3rd interstellar object Headline: 3I/ATLAS Just changed color” object changed from red to green Interview with John Brandenburg, Ph.D. comets can change color green is a common color cyanide is a common element in comets “I try to rank the degree of anomaly” “trajectory - like this thing was planned, like the Jupiter probes” “does not look like a natural event at all…looks like a reconnaissance probe” “Oumuamua…almost like it was camouflaging itself behind the sun” C/2025 R2 SWAN - “highly unlikely to happen naturally” 3I/ATLAS to pass close to Mars on October 3, 2025 “could be a scientific survey of our solar system” “If Oumuamua and 3I/ATLAS are part of the same…they are interested in Mars” “I am convinced the government has known for 80 years or more that we are not alone in this universe” “the government does not want to talk about his aspect”   Remote viewer Richard from FFGRV.com  ==== BOOKS MENTIONED: Death on Mars: The Discovery of a Planetary Nuclear Massacre John E. Brandenburg, PhD. ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Eric Frandsen and Jason Walker talk about the rising problem of athletes involved in sports gambling; athletes from the Mountain West involved. Utah State men's basketball hosts an Evening with the Pros. Glimpses of USU's men's basketball schedule based on other school releases. USU opens its football stadium for first responders and others to simulate the heroes who had to climb stairs at the World Trade Center on 9/11.

NPR's Mary Louise Kelly is hosting a new national security podcast, Sources and Methods. She talked about it with KAZU.

Fluent Fiction - French: Glimpses of Dreams: Inspirations Under Giverny's Rain Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-09-11-22-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: La brume automnale enveloppait le jardin de Monet à Giverny.En: The autumn mist enveloped Monet's garden in Giverny.Fr: Les feuilles dorées craquaient sous les pas de Luc, Camille et Étienne.En: The golden leaves crackled under the footsteps of Luc, Camille, and Étienne.Fr: Le ciel gris menaçait de pleurer à tout moment, mais la beauté du lieu occupait l'esprit de chacun.En: The gray sky threatened to cry at any moment, but the beauty of the place occupied each person's mind.Fr: Luc marchait en silence, absorbé par le paysage.En: Luc walked in silence, absorbed by the landscape.Fr: Il espérait que Monet, même en son absence, pourrait lui chuchoter un secret d'inspiration.En: He hoped that Monet, even in his absence, could whisper a secret of inspiration to him.Fr: Sans ce moment magique, Luc craignait que sa toile reste vide à jamais.En: Without this magical moment, Luc feared his canvas would remain empty forever.Fr: Camille, d'un pas assuré, décrivait l'histoire de chaque rocaille, chaque arôme, chaque coup de pinceau invisible imprégné dans les arbres.En: Camille, with a confident stride, described the history of each rockery, each aroma, each invisible brushstroke soaked into the trees.Fr: Mais elle, dans son cœur, doutait de ses propres traces dans le monde de l'art.En: But in her heart, she doubted her own marks in the world of art.Fr: Elle voulait plus que de simples mots en résonance avec l'œuvre d'un autre.En: She wanted more than just words resonating with the work of another.Fr: Étienne, le gardien silencieux du jardin, montrait avec fierté les recoins cachés que peu de visiteurs découvraient.En: Étienne, the silent guardian of the garden, proudly showed the hidden corners that few visitors discovered.Fr: Pourtant, sous son chapeau, se cachait un rêve non réalisé d'architecture, un monde de lignes et structures qu'il traçait en secret le soir venu.En: Yet, beneath his hat, hid an unrealized dream of architecture, a world of lines and structures he traced in secret come evening.Fr: Puis, sans avertissement, le ciel déversa ses larmes.En: Then, without warning, the sky poured out its tears.Fr: La pluie s'intensifia rapidement, obligeant les trois amis à se réfugier sous un vieux saule aux branches accueillantes.En: The rain intensified quickly, forcing the three friends to take refuge under an old willow with welcoming branches.Fr: « Camille, raconte-moi plus sur Monet », demanda Luc, cherchant à chasser l'orage intérieur de son esprit par des histoires d'art.En: "Camille, tell me more about Monet," asked Luc, seeking to chase away the internal storm in his mind with stories of art.Fr: Camille, surprise par l'urgence dans la voix de Luc, hésita.En: Camille, surprised by the urgency in Luc's voice, hesitated.Fr: Étienne, voyant le malaise, décida de partager son propre secret.En: Étienne, seeing the discomfort, decided to share his own secret.Fr: Il sortit doucement un carnet de son sac.En: He gently pulled a notebook from his bag.Fr: « Regardez », dit-il timidement, ouvrant les pages sur des esquisses détaillées de bâtiments imaginaires.En: "Look," he said shyly, opening the pages to detailed sketches of imaginary buildings.Fr: Des lignes nettes, des courbes gracieuses, des dessins à l'encre qui révélaient un univers caché.En: Sharp lines, graceful curves, ink drawings revealing a hidden universe.Fr: Luc contemplait les dessins avec émerveillement.En: Luc contemplated the drawings with wonder.Fr: Soudain, il comprit.En: Suddenly, he understood.Fr: L'art pouvait être trouvé n'importe où, même dans les rêves enfouis d'un jardinier.En: Art could be found anywhere, even in the buried dreams of a gardener.Fr: Il réalisa que la perspective, même celle empruntée, pouvait illuminer sa propre voie créative.En: He realized that perspective, even a borrowed one, could illuminate his own creative path.Fr: Camille, inspirée par le courage d'Étienne, sentit ses doutes s'évanouir.En: Camille, inspired by Étienne's courage, felt her doubts dissipate.Fr: Elle pouvait encore redéfinir sa place dans l'art, faible qu'était ce sentiment de rigidité.En: She could still redefine her place in art, fragile though that feeling of rigidity was.Fr: Lorsque la pluie cessa, un sentiment de renouveau animait leur petit groupe.En: When the rain stopped, a feeling of renewal animated their little group.Fr: Ils émergeaient du saule avec une énergie nouvelle, un respect profond les uns pour les autres et leurs rêves.En: They emerged from the willow with new energy, a deep respect for one another and their dreams.Fr: Luc, enfin, avait l'inspiration qu'il cherchait.En: Luc, finally, had the inspiration he sought.Fr: Camille marcha avec une assurance retrouvée.En: Camille walked with restored confidence.Fr: Quant à Étienne, en se remettant à dessiner, sentait déjà les murs de son architecture rêvée s'élever.En: As for Étienne, resuming his drawing, he already felt the walls of his dreamed architecture rising.Fr: Sous le ciel dégagé, ils se séparèrent, chacun enrichi par ce qui avait été partagé sous la douce protection de l'arbre.En: Under the clear sky, they parted ways, each enriched by what had been shared under the gentle protection of the tree.Fr: Giverny brillait sous un nouveau jour, et chacun partait avec un rêve bien vivant.En: Giverny shone under a new day, and each left with a fully alive dream. Vocabulary Words:the mist: la brumethe garden: le jardinthe autumn: l'automnethe leaves: les feuillesthe footsteps: les pasthe sky: le cielthe beauty: la beautéthe landscape: le paysagethe canvas: la toilethe rockery: la rocaillethe aroma: l'arômethe brushstroke: le coup de pinceauthe guardian: le gardienthe corner: le recointhe dream: le rêvethe architecture: l'architecturethe lines: les lignesthe structures: les structuresthe tears: les larmesthe rain: la pluiethe refuge: le refugethe willow: le saulethe story: l'histoirethe urgency: l'urgencethe notebook: le carnetthe sketch: l'esquissethe building: le bâtimentthe ink: l'encrethe universe: l'universthe perspective: la perspective

Ep 150: Sept 3, 2025 - Oumuamua, Top Secret MAJESTIC-12, SOM1-01 and Extraterrestrials. “Extraterrestrial Entities and Technology, Recovery and Disposal” in U. S. government training manual first broadcast May 1, 2019. Linda says “this Earthfiles is now even more important as Pentagon internecine warfare rages about UFO facts.”  ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html  

Single Chinese want to find love, but remain straitjacketed by expectations of what their partners should look like. Synopsis: Every first Friday of the month, The Straits Times catches up with its foreign correspondents about life and trends in the countries they're based in. Inequality is at play in China’s singles market in more ways than one. In China, the number of men outstrip that of women, and yet, they find it far easier to find marriage partners. At the same time, both genders are trapped by familial and their own expectations to marry within the same social bracket, in the face of a growing divide between the elites and the broader generation. China correspondent Michelle Ng unpacks the dynamics with host and ST foreign editor Li Xueying. Highlights (click/tap above): 0:49 Attending a matchmaking event in Beijing 2:55 Screening for income 5:40 A paradox in the marriage market 9:04 Anxiety of the rich 12:29 Lack of social mixing Read Michelle Ng’s article here: https://str.sg/jMu4 Read Li Xueying’s articles: https://str.sg/iqmR Follow Li Xueying on LinkedIn: https://str.sg/ip4x Register for Asian Insider newsletter: https://str.sg/stnewsletters Host: Li Xueying (xueying@sph.com.sg) Edited by: Fa’izah Sani Executive producer: Ernest Luis Follow Asian Insider on Fridays here: Channel: https://str.sg/JWa7 Apple Podcasts: https://str.sg/JWa8 Spotify: https://str.sg/JWaX Feedback to: podcast@sph.com.sg SPH Awedio app: https://www.awedio.sg --- Follow more ST podcast channels: All-in-one ST Podcasts channel: https://str.sg/wvz7 Get more updates: http://str.sg/stpodcasts The Usual Place Podcast YouTube: https://str.sg/4Vwsa --- Get The Straits Times app, which has a dedicated podcast player section: The App Store: https://str.sg/icyB Google Play: https://str.sg/icyX --- #STAsianInsiderSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Single Chinese want to find love, but remain straitjacketed by expectations of what their partners should look like. Synopsis: Every first Friday of the month, The Straits Times catches up with its foreign correspondents about life and trends in the countries they're based in. Inequality is at play in China’s singles market in more ways than one. In China, the number of men outstrip that of women, and yet, they find it far easier to find marriage partners. At the same time, both genders are trapped by familial and their own expectations to marry within the same social bracket, in the face of a growing divide between the elites and the broader generation. China correspondent Michelle Ng unpacks the dynamics with host and ST foreign editor Li Xueying. Highlights (click/tap above): 0:49 Attending a matchmaking event in Beijing 2:55 Screening for income 5:40 A paradox in the marriage market 9:04 Anxiety of the rich 12:29 Lack of social mixing Read Michelle Ng’s article here: https://str.sg/jMu4 Read Li Xueying’s articles: https://str.sg/iqmR Follow Li Xueying on LinkedIn: https://str.sg/ip4x Register for Asian Insider newsletter: https://str.sg/stnewsletters Host: Li Xueying (xueying@sph.com.sg) Edited by: Fa’izah Sani Executive producer: Ernest Luis Follow Asian Insider on Fridays here: Channel: https://str.sg/JWa7 Apple Podcasts: https://str.sg/JWa8 Spotify: https://str.sg/JWaX Feedback to: podcast@sph.com.sg SPH Awedio app: https://www.awedio.sg --- Follow more ST podcast channels: All-in-one ST Podcasts channel: https://str.sg/wvz7 Get more updates: http://str.sg/stpodcasts The Usual Place Podcast YouTube: https://str.sg/4Vwsa --- Get The Straits Times app, which has a dedicated podcast player section: The App Store: https://str.sg/icyB Google Play: https://str.sg/icyX --- #STAsianInsiderSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Rev. Mark Trigsted preached on Romans 8:18–25.

Ep 149: August 27, 2025 - Is 3I-ATLAS A Secret Government Crisis? Scientists photographed blue glowing object  fastest object ever recorded at 130,000+ miles per hour labeled it “3I/ATLAS” Interview with Physicist John Brandenburg, PhD predicted anomalous acceleration "it's behaving like Omuamua” “this one…is going very close to Mars” “this looks completely improbable” “the object is radiating energy like a star” “must be artificially powered” John Brandenburg's calculations:  https://earthfiles.com/brandenburg Upcoming online symposium, August 31 at 12:00 MTN time:  https://lazarusinitiative.com ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html  

Ep 148: Aug 20, 2025 - Why was NASA/USAF pilot shown "real UFO" on closed circuit TV?   Headlines:    Aug 1, Chuck Schemer holder splitter news “You gotta let people know the truth…whatever it is”   ResearchGate.net:  “The Cryptoterrestrial Hypothesis: A Case for Scientific Openness to a Concealed Earthly Explanation for Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena”    Aug 14, 2025:  Globe UK: Harvard university researches suggested aliens are already here INTERVIEW with Dr Gregory Rogers, former NASA Chief Flight Surgeon and Air Force Major,  - New book:  “We got it from them!”  - “UAPs are real.”  - “we don't want people to say anything”  - “this spacecraft in 1992…not something I told anybody”  - “space launch office had something to show me…showed me a closed circuit television picture of a UFO being tested”  - “ovoid… like a modified egg”  - “small dome on top…able to rise from the floor”  - “testing the control mechanisms”  - “45 degree angle of attack…remained stationary.  None of our vehicles could remain stationary”  - “We got it from them!”  - “I was looking at a flying saucer”  - “I believe David Grusch is telling the truth”  - “I saw a reverse engineered craft”  - “It's about power”   ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Fr. Patrick preached this homily on August 17, 2025. The readings are from Jeremiah 38:4-6, 8-10, Psalm 40:2, 3, 4, 18, Hebrews 12:1-4 & Luke 12:49-53. — Connect with us! Website: https://slakingthirsts.com/ Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCytcnEsuKXBI-xN8mv9mkfw

Join Sandra for her 250th show celebration featuring a boy’s vision of his father in Heaven and an NDE with proof from a beloved dog. Explore the afterlife and learn a technique to find peace.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Join Sandra for her 250th show celebration featuring a boy’s vision of his father in Heaven and an NDE with proof from a beloved dog. Explore the afterlife and learn a technique to find peace.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Ep 147: Aug 13, 2025 - Part 2 - Has U.S. Navy Secretly Printed E.T.-UFO I.D. Pamphlets Since 1990? Headlines: May 11, 2024 - rare G5 geomagnetic storm Viewer feedback about interview with John Smith, US Navy SURTASS tech that. witnessed USO coming out of water Follow up interview John Smith received pamphlet containing of EBEs pictures of 10 different craft and 4 different creatures Nordic..white hair, white skin, bright blue eyes…metallic looking suit 3-4 foot grey, solid black eye human-looking praying mantis praying mantis has the most power looked like a grey on steroids. And a suit on. “signed an NDA…ruined my career' “I didn't want to go to D.C. - I didn't want to be around those people…they scared me” “I got out of the navy” ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Taylor Swift knew how to share her vulnerability and relatability through her music at such a young age. She knew how to say what we were all feeling and made us feel like we weren't alone, even while listening to “Invisible”. In today's Taylor Swift podcast episode we are discussing how the songs that Taylor wrote about herself and her friends were the first glimpses we got into her vulnerability and relatability.We discuss songs like “A Place In This World”, “The Outside”, “Tied Together With A Smile”, “Mary's Song (Oh My, My, My)” and more. Reflecting back on listening to her as teenagers ourselves, sharing facts about each song, and dissecting the lyrics, we discuss her debut album and the songs that put Taylor Swift on her way to stardom. Join us weekly as we discuss all things Taylor Swift in the best Taylor Swift podcast around!SPONSORS:Walli Cases 10% off with code “ttn” // https://wallicases.com/?rstr=ttn Love Olive Co 10% off with code “TTNPODCAST” // https://loveoliveco.com/?ref=TTNPODTaylor Swift Songs || Taylor Swift Podcast || Taylor Swift || Taylor Swift Debut AlbumSend us a textSupport the showFollow along to hear a new Taylor Swift related episode every single Tuesday.Watch our episodes on YouTube!Follow Us On Social Media:Typical Tuesday Night Podcast @typicaltuesdaynight.podcastKarli @everyday_ellisJess @jess.taitJoin our Patreon for bonus episodes and exclusive Taylor Swift group chat!Shop Our Merch!Feel free to contact us at typicaltuesdaynightpodcast@gmail.com

Dear Pastor, Do people really have near-death experiences? Do they really see Jesus and part of Heaven or Hell and then come back to Earth? Asking hard questions can lead to a deeper understanding of God and His ways. This week, our series continues, exploring your questions with Glimpses of Heaven.

Ep 146: August 6, 2025 -  How do UFOs burst out of ocean waters completely dry? Linda is on vacation for the next two weeks. Please enjoy this special rebroadcast. “Unidentified Submerged Objects” - USO Underwater hydrophone program called SOSUS SURTASS - Surveillance Towed-Array Sensor Program   Interview with 17-year U.S. Navy Veteran “John Smith” OTA Analyst for prototype research “tracking things up to 700 knots” “they would just pop into the water…speed up to 700 knots” “they have full control of the skies and water” “When it breached the water, it was completely silent. There wasn't any water dripping off of it.” “Their technology is a whole lot better… some kind of field…something is preventing the pressure from crushing them” “Boomerang-looking shape” “No lights at all” “Kind of a grey, almost like a navy ship grey” “Straight up…gone within 10 seconds” “We don't have that technology” Stay tuned for Part 2, next week! ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

In the weeks following Urgyen Sangharakshita's death in 2018, Mahamati, one of his secretaries and companions, spoke informally at a number of Order gatherings about the experience of working closely with him during the last fifteen or so years of his life. Here, Mahamati reflects on aspects of their time together, and on aspects of Sangharakshita's personality and character which were not always visible publicly. We are afforded a series of glimpses into the concerns of his final years and those of his last days. A moving, very personal account of connection, duty, love and faith from a disciple about his teacher, which also opens out into something bigger and potentially more collective, founded on gratitude and a sense of fundamental relationship to the Dharma itself. Talk given at Vimaladhatu, Germany for the Triratna Buddhist Order, December 2018. *** This month's FBA Podcasts and Dharmabytes celebrate the one hundredth anniversary of Sangharakshita's birth, founder of the Triratna Buddhist Community and Order. Help us keep FBA Podcasts free for everyone! Donate now: https://freebuddhistaudio.com/donate Subscribe to our Free Buddhist Audio podcast: A full, curated, quality Dharma talk, every week. Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/dharmabytes-from-free-buddhist-audio/id416832097 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4UHPDj01UH6ptj8FObwBfB YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@FreeBuddhistAudio1967  

In today's episode, we're speaking with Jason Scherr, Founder and CEO of Think Coffee - a pioneering specialty coffee business based in New York City.Jason began his career in law before pivoting into hospitality, driven by a desire to build something more creative and community-focused. That vision led to the opening of Think Coffee in 2006 - a coffee business focussed on ethical sourcing and social impact. Nearly two decades on, Think Coffee operates 11 locations across New York and has been roasting in-house since 2017.In this conversation, Jason reflects on the evolution of New York's specialty coffee scene post-pandemic, and shares his hope for a return to more in-store, face-to-face coffee connections. He also speaks candidly about the challenges of doing business ethically - and why Think Coffee remains committed to transparency and high standards, even when it's not the easiest path to takeCredits music: Glimpses by Fox Jackson in association with The Coffee Music Project and SEB Collective. Tune into the 5THWAVE Playlist on Spotify for more music from the showSign up for our newsletter to receive the latest coffee news at worldcoffeeportal.comSubscribe to 5THWAVE on Instagram @5thWaveCoffee and tell us what topics you'd like to hear

Join Sandra for her 250th show celebration featuring a boy’s vision of his father in Heaven and an NDE with proof from a beloved dog. Explore the afterlife and learn a technique to find peace.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Join Sandra for her 250th show celebration featuring a boy’s vision of his father in Heaven and an NDE with proof from a beloved dog. Explore the afterlife and learn a technique to find peace.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Bob reads aloud eyewitness testimonies from some last dying words of famous people who seemed to have a glimpse, or at least strong feeling, regarding their eternal destiny. Click on your podcasting platform below to subscribe to The Bob Siegel Show: Apple  | Google | Spotify | TuneIn | Amazon | iHeartRadio | Blubrry | Deezer | Android | RSS Feed  Subscribe by email and get Bob's show delivered directly to your inbox! […]

Ep 144: July 23, 2025 - What Are Alien Secrets Beneath Antarctic Ice? Linda is working on updating the latest edition of her Mysterious Lights and Crop Circles book. Please enjoy this special rebroadcast featuring U. S. Navy Captain Mark Wood (Ret.) discussing Alien Secrets Beneath Antarctic Ice! Full documentary available here for purchase/rent and Amazon Prime Video: https://www.earthfiles.com/videos ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Ep 143: July 16, 2025 - Do Grey E. T.s Inhabit Large Earth Underground Tube Structures? Interview with experiencer Erik Nanstiel encounters have persisted for 55 years “highly strange events are forming complex repeating patterns… grey extraterrestrials inhabit large caverns, deep underground” “three massive subterranean caverns under east Illinois” “as deep as half a mile underground” “a lifetime of encounters…a lab rat” “too late for us to mount an effective response” “two species becoming one species” “they want to replace Homo sapiens” “they can't live on the surface” “Homo exogenous will replace Homo sapiens”   ==== Books mentioned: Angst in the Shadows: A True Story Of Alien Abductions By Erik Nanstiel https://www.angstintheshadows.com/   ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Ep 412: July 9, 2025 -The experiencer blood type connection, hybrids and human survival. Unfortunately, Linda has come down with the flu, and won't be available for tonight's live broadcast. Please enjoy this special rebroadcast, and we'll see you LIVE next week, on July 16! Blood Rh factor is a protein found on the surface Rh+ is the most common blood type. MUFON survey found that 33% of respondents were RH negative. MUFON member and experiencer Denise Stoner hypnosis recollection by Kathleen Marden “The entities are not showing themselves” “they don't want to frighten us…humans have been misinformed” “they are very concerned about our use of nuclear weapons” ==== NEW PRINTINGS NOW AVAILABLE: Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 1: Fact & Eye Witnesses   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses1  Glimpses of Other Realities, Vol. 2: High Strangeness   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/glimpses2 An Alien Harvest: Further Evidence Linking Animal Mutilations and Human Abductions to Alien Life Forms   Now available on Amazon: https://earthfiles.com/aah ====   #LindaMoultonHowe #Earthfiles — For more incredible science stories, Real X-Files, environmental stories and so much more. Please visit my site https://www.earthfiles.com — Be sure to subscribe to this Earthfiles Channel the official channel for Linda Moulton Howe https://www.youtube.com/Earthfiles. — To stay up to date on everything Earthfiles, follow me on FaceBook@EarthfilesNews and Twitter @Earthfiles.  To purchase books and merchandise from Linda Moulton Howe, be sure to only shop at my official Earthfiles store at https://www.earthfiles.com/earthfiles-shop/ — Countdown Clock Piano Music:  Ashot Danielyan, Composer:  https://www.pond5.com/stock-music/100990900/emotional-piano-melancholic-drama.html

Welcome Jodi! In this powerful episode, we're talking about the real game-changer in leadership and life: self-trust because here's the truth, the quality of your life is directly connected to the quality of your relationship with yourself and trusting yourself.Together, Jodi and I explore what it means to:Listen to your intuitionTake bold, aligned action from the lighthouse beam of light, the version of your BEST self (maybe that time you were 27 and living, doing, being her B E S T life!)Follow the glimpses ... and inklings ... and stop proving or pleasing your way through lifeJodi is truly authentic and shares her life stories, how she continues to "show up for herself" and continue to grow! She would say: It's not about having it all figured out. I'm just really proud of how I keep showing up, taking chances, and staying committed to becoming the most expressed version of myself both in life and in my work."✨ Sharing her "formula" to recalibrate back to yourself:As if you are in the lighthouse, look around your life, spotlight that time in your life, when you are most vibrant, most joyous, happy!Reflect on those moments in your lifetime.Find the photo of you - in that time! This is your anchor!Now, wonder what was happening that brought so much authentic joy and follow the whispers and nudges to find that same light, fun, adventure, and self... today!