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[A beautiful dog enters the palace; C'esme't is pleased—actually, more thrilled.] Now! (Yo!) [The Dog sits at the entrance.] Call to me. [he speaks from the mind (telepathically) with a familiar tonal voice] Come, sweet stranger! [The Dog approaches] For it is I, the King who walks as not a ghost For yet the call has spoken that I be your loyal shadow (it's me; the King. I've been called to watch over you) Then? (Elaborate.) For now I came as waked dost I as ghost and wandered, pity and pardoned by no army dared Aghast my throne And agape my eyes, Wide my mouth and nostrils, Disemboweled and yet, I did wake with my fortune And tidings in my kingdom, a hidden realm, For there slayed, as I wept, The others dared to swallow, This truth, I, as knight and pawn doth slay the Queen, For titled King no friend of mine; And now, this beast as blood dost froth, My mind does waste, but here I bark Fortunate! To be laid by as you, I will. Then, creature, as you may! For free, this I, And coming not the time I shall l awaken, And then, though, Does the true challenge to bear, The altar; the stone, the shield and the rope From which I pull, and thee shall fight. Marriage of souls. To fancy this beast, betrayeth not. For something barks as is an end As a man does call a lover friend And so lover-friend I am and shall be. Lol what the fuck. So he's a dog now. ‍♀️ wtf is going on in this show. Idk. I'm baked. Enter The Multiverse L E G E N D S: Manifest Destiny ‍♂️ Ascension: Enter the Multiverse The titles switched. Good idea. So maybe I should stick with t mobile? Idk. Mint mobile is 15 dollars a month for unlimited talk and text. HERE AND NOW I DECREE, THIS FEAST DOES NOURISH ALL OUR MINDS AND HEARTS TO FIGHT THE GOOD WAR AGAINST ALL HE WHO SQUANDER THE MERCY OF PEACE! TO COURAGE! lol you lost me. I'm grasping at strings here. I needs a means to an end I need a body bag, body bag I need a King and a dog And a cat and an owl And a mark and a dawn And a knife and a gun Call it what you want I was not at the rock But that's where I was going I'm lost in Omaha I was just on the dark With the dark and the walkers The king and the rabbit The facts and the stalkers But who sunk the boat? Who sunk the boat Now this is encouragement! Acknowledgements? Nothing yet. Disaster strikes obvious and No regrets But obvious I'm in it for the long run And it transpired for the job done But the waffles came out awful And crispier than I wanted Almost every time So I took the iron back to target And I know I came out with a double album in August But I got no promotions So I won't walk the carpet So I won't walk the carpet I know I know I'm no Joan Rivers Or Joan of ark so I won't talk the gossip I won't talk the gossip I won't talk the gossip Now, more followers Show boat, Throw him overboard into a rowboat With no paddles And horseshoes on em— That outta show ‘em Rondevouz Rob us all Noah's Ark Don't get so lost in the story Lost in the sory Lost in the LORNE MICHAELS …you caused this. [In a secret lab inside of 30 Rock, A group of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE alumni are trapped inside a metal box; this room has no doors and no windows and seems to be amplifying thought frequencies each of them hears uniquely, but distinctly, and very, very loudly. This is due to the irrefutable fact that they are all gifted telepaths, due to having served time often looking into the lenses of live broadcast cameras. it is theorized that, because of this anomaly— a strange and untraceable signal seeming to intercept all of Rockefeller Plaza's Radio antennae transmissions, it may be an unknown extraterrestrial force attempting to comminicste with 30 Rock from space. On this day, they've been gathered and trapped here in an emergency focus group to attempt to remedy the problem. Haha. MAKE IT STOP. OH MY GOD WHAT IS THST, WHYYYYYYYYY! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYHY!!! Craters full of lullabies and dictionary definitions; Tense intimate interactions, and now, this hypertension. I have a secret, a dirty little secret. I didn't do it! It wasn't me! Hmm..okay–vouch. I'm telling you–wait– vouch? Yeah, I vouch. You're vouching me? I'm vouching you. She's vouching me. She vouched you. So i'm good? You're good. I'm good. You're good. Ok. SETH MEYERS is the best secret keeper in the entirety of the known and unknown multiverse. The respective deities and entities within the outer realms have taken notice to this; One of the world's greatest eve played game has become the ritualistic endeavor of tracking down this human in order to attempt to overwhelm him so that he might eventually crack or implode, or even acknowledge these sometimes outrageous events and otherworldly happenings; thus far, he has not. As of recently, the elders of the darkest deities from the furthest outer realms and legions of Hell have been taking this game with the now very famous and successful seth meyers, a popular TV host; this has elevated the e ntirety of the threshold for Seth's tolerance, and it appears he may soon be pushed to crack. So why are you on the wire? I atrophied at extravagant Tip toed in the tip ties; Til' then, i went there, Now summer starts in winter Now summer starts in winter Now summer starts in winter Pull the curtain back, Then you censor this Censor this! I pull the curtain back, then redact then redact don't react don't react It's an act it's an act Shit I pull the curtain back then I bow; It's a show now Pull the curtain back then I show, It's a showdown Listen up, Listen down I super blow my flow now, super bowl my pronouns You can't lose if you don't pick a team You can't win if you don't even play I can't pay you if I don't get a paycheck I can't work at it if it's not fame Oh no! I can't work at it if it's not fame. The isms is the synthesis; I only got one present for christmas When you [can] Take that spark and bury it in your heart, don't remark about it– Then, probably you're a comic Or an alcoholic, one of the two of them Wrong not to touch, then Willed you back into existence And still it's in exigence, and Guilty by association Guilty by association I just want to know what the current Tonight Show budget is for hair dye. Also wondering why JImmy's suit is grey, but his hair isn't? Is that a two in one? Honest to God my only question about this man. The rest can remain as mystery. Act V Part II Guilty By Association Sometimes I Stevie Wonder what you're up to; I can't see you but I know you're in my aura Sometimes I Richard Pryor while you're on my mind; I guess you could say you set my soul on fire My, my my Look what time it is I've only just begun to know you; Then I had to dieSo turn the light off My eye Turn the light off for awhile And follow me to darkness Follow me To the other side. It's not true, but it'll do I might have lost you somewhere Better off to leave you somewhere sure; If it's not pure And how could it be When only the light hits the snow And bounces off The warmth is an illusion, And your love is just a dream And anyway, anyway There's nothing i've ever been surer of Than the definite end, The enter and exit And when planets align, Only to fall completely out of orbit Now what was this for again Foreigner, object identified and destroyed it's destructive qualities, Tentative in a nature Sure, pressure– Resentment, Intense good moments of pleasure, Then signals sent Completely by accident. -Now that i've been thinking lately of Bill Murray And my formerly imaginary friend Riff Raff, Now i'm sure that There may be some telepathy involved Which means I should probably just– Go somewhere else now. Should I be sorry for my thoughts? I'd rather not, But still YO. Yo dude, what the fuck. I'VE BEEN STUCK IN THIS MOVIE FOR LIKE A YEAR. That's not that long… IT'S A LONG TIME TO BE IN A MOVIE. Please don't tear me to pieces; Don't blow the balloon up, No foul ball, No side eye No fowl play And dinner is as cold as it gets But dinner does warm In the aluminum foil, But all out of order, The border patrol is just Digging for details Digging for details. And it's this: You don't know what it is, Until you get into it, And it sets into you The only way it can When it's in you. Are you paying attention to this? Or can I just end it? Boston accents or what, And now i really think It's just inside my head It's just inside my head and This is getting weird. All of a sudden, I'm oh wonder and I love it And Sara Silverman has The prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen (on a celebrity) ((with whom I share a gender)) Aha. Okay, Sabrina Carpenter has a very pretty voice But that doesn't make me Any less jealous Or any less capable of explosion Disarm me I'm catching up on the specials I missed Being special I guess With no grocery subscription Aim low, Get high, I guess Rob Lowe, Build time, I guess I miss the old announcer, And the golden years I miss the former times And the mouse ears I learned my less I might got Kim K and TSwift Pointer Finger Could hold a tune to you, Who The joys of live theatre, And the catastrophe of the Impenetrable Boy oh boy is Television getting heavy Turn up the ridiculousness and Atrocious Atrocities and Acidophilus Anorexic, I wish i could digest this –and expand my vocabulary I wish I was better than I am So i could be Capable Can Kim Kardashian ever not just be Naturally beautiful at everything Doing everything Kim The J I can't sing in this apartment And it might actually kill me The devil lives next door on both sides I'm in a satan sandwich I guess I'm just Not free I must have fucked up last lifetime I must have fucked up last lifetime I might have looked just like her I want to get upstaged by Eddie Murphy More corpse suits! Pink lipstick! Slap the desk Check the camera Front loading! Front loading! I want a chance at humbling white america (just kidding) I want a wig that looks like an afro (cause I don't have one) I want Lorne Michaels to shame me into beng better By making me feel mediocre first So I hit the high bar When I hit the body bag I hit the body bag When I hit the high road With Letterman YOU STOLE MY BODY TO GO TO A BLACK TIE FUNCTION!? Yeah. Well–which one? Okay, you're gonna get a kick out of this. I'm giddy for physical comedy THIS IS MY MANIFEST DESTINY MY MANIFEST DESTINY AHHHHHHHH MY MANIFEST DESTINAAAAAAA Comedy comes in all forms And God comes in all Karma I brace myself for repeating my mantras I light candles But don't blow them out I just might get my wish DO NOT RESIST. I AM RESISTING THIS ARREST. Oh yeah. YES. Shoot him. NO, DON'T. SHOOT HIM, BILLY BOB, SHOOT ‘EM. Crocodile hunter turned hard-up cop Read him his rights! He ain't white enough. So she's perfect! Me? I've been taken in I can't stand to stamp I can't christmas, Backwards And backwash And sanford and sons And Whatever And… Ego might eat me like Eggos Like Hannibal Burress was holding At the market I left my Ego at the door But there's just no room for the both For the both of us I KNOW I'll just write her a hit show! What. YES. THEN, SHE'LL LEAVE SNL, AND THEN I'LL BE THE BLACK GIRL ON THE SHOW MWAAHAHAHAHAHA Ok. wtf happened to that girl? SUNNI BLU [kicking and screaming] I TOLD YOU I'M NOT GOING ON FA– —-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! So many beautiful people, or, rather The actors, Or should I say Vortex Then. Too many beautiful people I spent the whole night warm and holed up in the office What could come out of The Rock I don't know where to look I'm not used to the audience Duh, that. I'm a professional audience member But i don't remember the ending Anybody? Anybody? Any envy actor actress? BPM: Dosage Anxiety Remix Honestly fuck the comed circut I just want to know what it's like to have a body What's it like to have a body? I'm just a collective consciousness robot Adapting to my environment I can't sing in this apartment! I'm in a Satan Sandwich And would be The God in the middle If God didn't find this Absolutely hilarious So I'm on 24 hours; You're on Saturday Nights, But i'm on 24 I broke my Don't-look up-folks rule on Brittney Howard Cause I think i'm just like herBut more of a coward. You're on Saturday Night Live But i'm on 24 Hours It hurts longer And stronger Every moment I'm gone And still not a mom I wish I could change my eyes The color of the world Before it all ends Earth gone And oceans of mud No tide And no moon (The Earth without the Sun) I don't want to know you I don't want to owe you a lesson. I don't want to go there. I don't want no dance numbers. I don't want no GOATS here. No goats here. I don't get it, Mass Media– Is this flattery, or Deception? Humiliation? Based in perception, I see, so Is this recognition or Did I just send Dillon Francis my script in the beginning? No answer, by God. What an asshole What if Alienz Don't like lesbians. What is trance is just bad dance music. That's… What if edifice breaks for a daily regimen of Letterman? What if RUN, FALLON, RUN! I'M ATTACHED TO A KITE I HAVE NO CONTROL OF THIS. WELL, WHAT IS IT ATTACHED TO?! YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW! —NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONON AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! Look, It's Meryl Streep! Holy shit, Meryl Streep is hot. What.(I can't keep secrets>) God doesn't keep good secrets. Just stop talking. Look, It's “My Bad Chad” Holyfuck Are you gonna have all those burned off too? Or can I do it for you? (might cost less) Jk Kim K That's a tough act to follow. Ariana? Nah, Backup; Had that. Meanwhile: Me in a hatchback Campin' at the Palisades. My name's the hammer –Adam ruins everything– I am not goin' starstruck –Adam Ruins Everything– My name's the Hammer (I'm a hammer, damn) –Adam Ruins Everything– I love showbiz But I got hard work comin on Now pause:: I need a break Need to make money Now i get a two for one Two for one Hate me or love me Either way, I'm gonna show up, Blow up, Glow up, And fuck off I'm a lost cause Cause I lost God On a talk show The way the camera moves makes me nauseous virtual reality And everybody's mad at me for Jimmy Fallon's Galaxy Conan “snowball” O'Brien But why's he called that. Shh! Not Yet. Oh, you are so overdone and fucked right now! Shh! My mom might be listening. Like she's never heard the word ‘fuck'? Shhhh! MOM I heard that! See! She said she heard it; she didn't say stop it. Well stop it. Fuck me man! SHH. KNOCK IT OFF. Yes Mrs. Mason Who the fuck is Mrs. Mason. Come on, white america; Put me on late night I promise you I'll watch more hallmark artists Than all of them Every day over here is a suit and tie function Camera one? YOU DONE FUCKED WITH US FOR THE LAST TIME. Ah shit. lol . whart is thrus. Fucking–magicians or something. Freemasons. F– Alright. Where is he? Where is who? You know who! What? Donaghey!!!!!!!! Lol Alec Baldin is like 200 years old. *cackles too hard, falls over and dies* Yikes. JACK DONAGHEY enters from a Parallel dimension and sees ALEC BALDWIN'S CORPSE. …Huh. Who's this handsome son of a bitch, I wonder. Don't wonder too hard. We gotta find that court order and get out of here. What court order [Cort hors d'oeuvres] what. I don't know. It almost kind of rhymed with corpse and wonder and I'm still stuck writing in cadences. What for! Oh wow, the neighbor was really a plant forreal. STOP SLAMMIN THAT Yo fuck this. Waht the fuck am I supposed to do with all this information. [appearing entirely out of nowhere, as always.] JIMMY FALLON I told you to burn it. OH MY FUCKING JESUS CHRIST. STOP DOING THAT. I can't. That's– Apparently what I do. WELL GET OUT OF HERE. Wish I could. Strapped to a kite. THEN HOW ARE YOU STANDING HERE? WHAT? I'm learning a lot of things up there! UP–WHERE! Up yours. WHAT. *poofs* UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I hate him. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I hate this. TINA FEY Fuckit, he hates himself. Lets just assume. No, that's it. That's the singularity. What. It can't– He's just so confi— That's the singularity. [everything ploofs back to normal] See. I win. FUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS!? I'M YOUNG AGAIN. i”M YOUNG AGAIN. [The entire cast stares at their returned to period-accurately aged cast mate; He appears so confident and wise, however–just a glint of insecurity falls over him–this indeed was the singularity; rather than to risk all of time and space defrabicating for a third and albeit final time, they rain down on their castmate, with the angry hellfire of a gregorian mob, urging him to GO LOVE YOURSELF. Long Night at work, or just Shoo fly, don't bother me– I'm more caught up on the Rudolph Storyline, How it's some mystic But I missed it With the lip stick And the vintage this and thats Person Welcome to Hogwarts, Of course, It's your funeral God bless the illuminati All I see is– NOT IT. IT WASN'T ME. I DIDN'T DO IT. JLO BITCH, STOP TALKING. Woah, What the FUCK JLO. JLO WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY? I–wh– Wait… Fallon? SHHHHThhHHHTHhhTHHHH!! Give me one bet Died inside Who's doing which thing God bless these envies! Gie me one shot Now who am I?Ace in the hole? I died inside. Don't break the barrier Don't run the wall Don't be the villain Fall, JImmy, Fall. To float, or to fall Or to walk away To shop at the mall Or to bet it all on Fall on And I tell you to jump, you jump! And I tell you to move, You move! And I tell you to movie, You movie! And I show you the blue OH GOD. Gimmie the binoculars! No, you don't wanna see What! Why not! HE MOONED ME. I got three of a kind Three of a kind Three of hearts Two of diamonds HAH. I DOn'T LiKE THIS. Fuck off, The Ace. And very kindly, Go fuck yourself. Four aces, Four aces A mindfuck for the both of us An open book And shotglasses And fans of ours Its good to laugh At the ones you love Love Love Love Love It's showbiz, It's showbiz; I love it I want to die. I love it I love it I missed the bar I fucked up somewhere. Don't look back in anger, Or don't look back at al. Fall, Fall, Fall Fall Fall Love Love Love Love Love Love Did you notice I haven't looked back. I put you up on a– Up on a Up on a pedestal Then remembered To forget it all, In indifference Foraged your signature Sorry, I don't want a lot of hawk-a-loogie clock-the-woman knockdown, dragout drama I got a feel for it. What if all your forfeitures were fortunes All your donuts turned subordinates To astronauts Or fake dreams for fak streams and dreaming of Don't bother me I'm on poverty I want walks on the beach and blue bunny ice cream sundaes I've got a whole city Marked off in my journal For frozen custard and Lost in a thought, are we? Trust me, I think I died. Trust me, I trusted the God of Mercy Trust me I went all the way to the burden, Bought a hammock And then worked harder than nobody No dropped calls from mother No one's home at all Work harder I thought Sweater Weather was my new DJ name, But as it turns out, It was my telepathy ringing me I rode to the top of the rock with the beatlesI didn't mean for it to be me But i was twice out of body, Once out of mind. Now give me a minute Please. Let me become indifferent Don't need no friends, Long roads Roundhouse kicks to the face Hard rolling baggage Heart shaped boxes Or Prophets Don't need dozens of roses don't need diamonds Do need dinosaursDo need phone numbers do Do do . –but don't– don't don't. When i fall in line I write books and poems, songs And suffer, slugger . This is what I struggled with– who paid the neighbor bitch to feed me the whole special And slam doors On my mental That shit struck a chord And rubbed me the wrong way But i'm humble I won't touch nobody's Body at all. Nobody's. Now my dreams make sense, kind of But why are these my dreams And not actual people and most of all What does it mean? That I'm equal to? Or lesser than? Like the emerald stone on Sir Paul McCartney's hand, I went green for a moment It's just banter.I'm just having a hard time (I can't sing in this apartment)I might need a band I might need a bandaid. I might need a bath Some peroxide and hair dye My heart's broken I'm having a hard time But still not struggling I might have a hard time But not as hard as the afterparty was, And I struck gold. Kept walking Roll dice. Four of a kind, Four kings, four aces Four of a kind, Four kites, And a night owl The Rock and the Kite, Part V STEFON It's this thing where… {Enter The Multiverse} –and that's why I wished my mom a happy birthday. [The Festival Project ™ ] Damn, the illuminati really showed out for the oscars this year. CONAN SHHHH. He even says “I Am” Then commands the stage Look at all those long legs Now we're on enclave or conclave? I don't know. I'm feeling more ravey. Tears of a Clown Nobody to save me Not even shug avery. Who? That's right? Now i'm feeling more Broadway, baby. L E G E N D S: Manifest Destiny I wanna see the snake sitting next to you; Show me those eyes I love models and the lack thereof Inside of them I want to see the feral reptile Show me those eyesI love that she flies through life Right to you Right It's a boys club Boy they Really prize these Chappel Roans and Timothee Chalemet But where am I at? –Adam Ruins Everything– A couple forced fake laughs Cause I like highlights Stagecrafts Craftservices And god knows I can't write like this And I'm About To die [CONAN O'BRIEN leaves television to run a Bed and Breakfast in ORLANDO.] INT. BED AND BREAKFAST. ORLANDO. … [Calamity ensues] Conan killed the oscars, Stole the wand, The show and the bowtie (hostses with the mostest) –and that's why he's Snowball. No, i'm sure it's because my fur is fluffy and– Okay no more outdated rick and morty references Fine. Was that Dillon Francis behind Ben Stiller Or do I still just like white guys That much. Why do A-Listers like reptiles so much? Show me those eyes, you know I could use a good lunch (Birds of Prey eat snakes) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™ Episode Transcript: Yeah. Okay, this is terrifying. I haven't actually done this in it feels like way longer than it's been. In reality, it's only been like three like maybe three days, but it makes all the difference in the world. Hi. what's going on, I was just reminiscing about kitten mittens. Aw shit. I dropped my pen. If you remember if you're listening to this right now and you remember kittenman. congratulations, you've been with me since the beginning. um anyway, I don't know why I was just remembering that. kitten mittens. I thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world. I really I might have been delirious. losing my mind at a certain point, but I thought kittens was the best thing in the world. It was at the time. I was like I couldn't think of anything better. Then again, I was uh I don't know, I was discovering many hilarities. excuse the idiots in the back, they are idiots. um and they and they do this based on whatever I'm doing in my apartment. I'm their god. Anyway. I'm excused the background noise is still gonna be a a little bit uh while we're dealing with that, but at least you can help me collectively consciously remove them from existence entirely, um with the help of you know a collective existence we can get rid of evil. I don't I don't entirely. I'm not sure. I think that it would take a lot of people to understand that like a lot of it is just a game. I think it would take raising the entire consciousness of like people as a whole for them to understand that like, most of it is for entertainment and based off perceptions. So, like, whatever you' idea for the world is, like it was your idea. Whatever's making you upset is it was your idea. So I'm kind of coming to like terms with that in my own, like sense. I'm like, oh, yeah, like, whatever is happening, I'm like a certain like at the surface level is wrong, but like on a grander scale, like I programmed this into my reality for whatever purpose in order to better suit my, like ideal reality. That's, you know, that's that's it. I can't attribute it to anything else. They're idiots, cause I'm idiots. Anyway, what else is going on? I don't know, I was I'm gonna try and do this off book. I think I do have like I have some notes, but like I don't like the way that it feels when I'm going off of my notebook because it feels like robotic. It feels really, you know, like and not necessarily rehearsed, but it's it feels planned and when I listen back to the episodes where I do go off of like notes or something like that, I don't like the way that it sounds. Hearing myself back, going from a going going from like a script. And so I try to keep it like 100% improvisational and it keeps it fresh. and honestly, honesty goodness, I haven't been on the Peloton for like more than 15 minutes at a time since I stopped doing these episodes. I don't know what it is about the sound of my own voice, but maybe it's the fact that like, I'm in performance mode and I'm giving you guys like I'm in, you know, I'm like in my radio voice and then I'm watching back like a performance of myself in order to like, I don't know. It's like it's like experiencing myself for the first time secondhandedly because I'm not necessarily not thinking about what I'm saying, but I'm also not thinking about what what I'm saying or how I'm saying it as I'm saying it. And then, you know, sometimes I just really like even on my hardest days, sometimes I make myself laugh the very most, and I'm like, okay, there's another reason to keep doing it. Because for the most part, I'm like I don't wanna do this anymore, it costs me too much money and it's not. Like, I'm not a clut person. I'm just not a clout guy. I don't like doing stuff for clout, cause clout doesn't pay the bills and clout doesn't clout doesn't necessarily get you jobs, like unless it's like the right person's clout. Like, you get have clout from a million people, and if none of those million people are the well, a million is kind of where they drive line. Like if a million people are like, yeah, this is the shit, then it might get you a job. But like a million is probably the minimum number for that. Like if you don't have a million followers or you don't have a million views or you don't have a million of anything of just like clout like it doesn't pay bills. So I'm not a cloud person. I'm not just gonna do whatever off clout. What did I get off that on that clot rat for? I don't know, what was I saying? Oh, I'm going off book. I'm off. script. Anyway. what can I remember from things that I wrote down?, I don't know. I've been reading a lot. I've been, you know, doing doing the best that I can. I've been well, I've been reading. I've been reading children's books specifically because I'm finding information. Well, first of all, I picked up these children's books with the hope that I would be the owner of a small library and I'm not. I'm actually putting a lot of the books back into like society, which is fine. I'm just downsizing. It's actually helping me feel a lot better. Like my head is a lot clearer, my studio. My studio for for the first time in a long time was like a place that I can that I feel like I want to work. and it was the weirdest thing because I went through like a year of just like collecting whatever book I saw, like whether it was just like on a stoop, like I, you know, for whatever or out of the little free library or like just wherever, because books are everywhere in New York and that's probably my favorite thing hands down about New York is that like wherever you go there are books and they're free and you can pick them up. But I'm also very sensitive to energy, so as like an energy worker and a transmuter, it became congested to the point where it's like, okay, there is like a certain type of energy that's not that's foreign to me and as much cleansing and as much like, you know, whatever, as much, you know, in any kind of, you know, like spiritual work I was doing, there's an energy here that I'm not necessarily comfortable with. And I realized every time I picked up a book, I fell into like a certain type of world, you know, and it wasn't just like whether the book caught my attention from just like the cover or whatever, and then I decided to flip through it or whether it was like a book that I was stuck in, I was falling until like a certain energy or a certain world and that every book had a certain energy to it. And so I realized after a year of collecting hundreds of books that I had literally hundreds of energies, like floating through my space and it became like hectic and it became heavy to the point where I was like, like, I don't necessarily want to hold on to all these things. and so it's it's been really rejuvenating. I've been going through a time of just like not necessarily like I know I have a lot of stuff to do. but one of the stuff to do is is like going through all of the things that I know that I need to like let go of in order to feel better. And it has been helping me feel better. It has for the most part, I'm still doing a lot with like my energy recovery and the noise here has a lot to do with it. I'm now like I now have anxiety to the point where I have like a consistent nauseum. like every time I hear like any kind of motor, like I get sick and now it's it's actually getting worse the longer that I've stayed here with the noise, it's like I now have like an upset stomach all the time, headaches twitches. It's the it's the most fucked up thing ever. and I've also been learning more about because I'm, you know, still still really focused in my music and so frequencies and, you know, like I've always been like a huge believer and like layered frequencies for healing, like sound healing, beta thick alpha, and and the whatnot, but I finally caught onto a piece of information that made me realize how the noise outside has affected my brain chemistry and not just in the way that it's like it's annoying or it's a nuisance or it's harassment, which it is all of those things, according to the law, but in a sense of what's happening to my brain chemically, like the chemical changes that are happening in my brain, or the frequency changes that are happening in my brain are actually the things that are making me more upset than loss of sleep, or, you know, like a disruption or disorganization of my mind or my daily habits. The thing that's making me the most upset is what I'm realizing is it's changing my frequency, and I'm not talking about just my my aura I well, I am in a sense, but like the frequency, the frequency differences that that your brain your brain goes into different frequencies during, you know, waking state, alha state, better state, you know, and when you're sleeping, you're in um I well, it depends on the person actually, and it depends on the type of sleep that you're getting. Like most people sleep and like a data state from what I'm understanding and this is the state of like conscious dreaming. And this is this, I could be incorrect because honestly, I layer them anyway. And I finally I finally did it. I I did. I' I was working on a song and I realized that I achieved like perfect theta without actually even meaning to. And I think I did another one and that was like in perfect gamma without even like it was just mixed perfectly. that it I was also listening to like a gamatone and then I realized I was like, wait, is that the song or is it the tone? Because, you know, if the if the frequency that you're listening to is pure enough, it will actually distort the bass or the, you know, it will distort the entire sound of whatever you're listening to. So sometimes things can sound warped or like they're waving or like they're going through something because those tones are kind of like they're they're moving against each other or with each other just kind of depends. And so what what has been, well, I wanted to finish, well, yeah, I think I have at least one song now that's in theta, and I have at least one song that's in gamma, completely. and and I and I shocked myself because I was listening to the tones and I was like, wait, the wait a second. like, I'm feeling like double here. Is this this song that I'm listening to, that I'm checking back the mix, or is this the the frequencies? And I I turned off all the frequencies and sure enough, it was the song. It was like a pure I was like, wow. I'm like that's an achievement. I did it completely by accident and I wish I knew the formula that I used to do that.c some people are so mathematic about it. Like some people are so uh like, you know, some people do this to their music. A lot of people, especially inass music, that's why it is the way that it is, is you're going to a show to get these frequencies like zapped into your body at at full forces. and some people know how to do it on purpose. I did it on accident, so I'm like, if I can continue to achieve at this but I'm trying to figure out like the mathematical equation or like the actual sonic equation for making this happen, like every time, because going through my history ofass music, I will finish in a second, going through my history of bass music, I have always gravitated to the to these frequencies, to the frequencies that make me feel better after a certain amount of time listening to them or a certain amount of time being in in that frequency. So that's this is the music that has, I guess subconsciously kind of for the kind of artist that I am. But this is the reason why I'm upset about the noise. like the most upset about it, like not even on a legal level, on a social level, on a moral level, like, no, this is actually morally wrong, it is morally wrong on so many fucking levels. I'm like, why are you so like, why obviously I did this on purpose, like in my God complex, I'm like, oh, well, I can better the community as long as I make a point, like that environmentally, this is damaging people. It's giving people mental illness, that it or like if they're predisposed to mental illness, it's even worse, but it's it's also like causing mental illness and people that are otherwise healthy people, which is not a lot of people in New York City given. It's just not. It's not a healthy place. A lot of people are not healthy. But even in like moderately healthy humans, this noise disruption can cause like brain changes and chemistry changes, and this is the reason why I'm so upset is because when you are sleeping, if you are sleeping, your brain is in a certain level that is like in a healing state. In the first few minutes that you wake up, as I understand it. In the first few minutes after you wake up, your brain is in a state that it can like that you can manipulate your entire environment, that you can change things, that you can heal yourself. And so when I'm waking up in the first few minutes in the very first thing that I hear is a motorcycle that's ripping through my fucking brain, it's changing my brain frequency from a frequency that is like at the at the at a human level or at any kind of level, kind of the the thing that makes every human capable of being a genius, not the genius level able to heal yourself and the frequency that you're able to heal yourself is what you automatically wake up in. So when you' when this frequency is interrupted, it's intercepted in immediately into a negative thought pattern. And so you immediately, so what's happening, what's been happening to me over the last year with the motorcycle nuisance harassment problem or whatever the fuck I don't care what it's called on paper. I just want it to stop like I just want to live in peace. It's not like and kind of having like coming from a a background where I kind of tend to have like take responsibility for myself, like oh, it must be something that I'm doing and yes, I also have like a higher god complex or like an ego if you want to call it, that's like, oh no, I must have done this on purpose. And you know, like in order for the greater good, like in order to fulfill my purpose in some sort of way, it must be it must be part of my process to have this. That's also my ego like I'm a god. like, you know, that's just me, that's the generation. That's the generation that I come from. That's our mindset. Like nothing happens in this world without me in it, period. That's why rappers are rappers and that's why that's why models are models. We all have egos and it's really hard to kill the bitch. I've had at least ten ego dusts throughout my fucking like existence and it still comes back. It doesn't matter. You can have an ego death and be like a completely ego list for like what, six months tops? Eventually you're gonna have like the ego is is is imp important to survival, because I lost the word. I think implemental what was I gonna use? I was definitely a for syllable word. Either way, it is you need it. Like if you if you oh, you know, people might describe people, like being in like a in a sense of humility as like, oh, just completely without ego, but like at the end of the day, like, no, like your ego allows you to actually like compensate with the rest of the world, like, most people do not have no ego entirely, or at least for like, like a week after your acid tri or whatever, yeah, like, oh, had ego death and I completely. But like within I swear to God, like within six months time, like your ego has at least minimally like repaired itself. That's what an ego does, that's why you have it. You have it. It's a survival. It's it's a part of your consciousness that has to do with survival if you don't have your ego, like you're pretty much dead in the world, especially the way it is now. Anyway, this is that that's going to probably close up my spiel on that. Yeah, I'm upset because instead of like the first few moments of my waking moments being a healing, time, it is immediately going into disarray and chaos and anxiety. And so in in so I'm losing like, I don't I don't really care about oh, I mean, like I care about life in a sense, but I mean, like, and it in a mortal sense. I like, yes, it's taking years off of me. and I feel it like in the way that it's like, I I am slower to do regular things or like, whatever my rising thoughts, might be are completely just destroyed by this like what I've what I've come to perceive is like an evil force. It is evil in so many levels again this breaks down from like a higher consciousness to like a lower state of consciousness. The lower state of consciousness is saying that like these people are just idiots. They're idiots and they are not self aware of the fucking like pollution that they're doing on kind of middle sense, I'm like, oh, it's politics, it's like gentrification if these guys run around in circles, then people call up the fucking place, the place gets fucking more allocated funds to their fucking police officers, the police officers have fucking filling their quotas. It's all bureaucracy and paperwork and politics on that middle level and on the highest level it is like no, this is evil, it's pure evil because people are so grossed out by the fact that fucking New York is New York and also the wage and income and quality factor is that this guy is doing whatever the fuck he has to do brown. He's doing well, not that guy. that guy's that guy's a weak dick motherfucker. He has a small dick and everybody in the neighborhood knows it. He drives around and circle making people miserable. He also I'm it's the same dude. that same dude followed me to the Trader Joe's. It's the same dude, so I'm like, I like I know the sound of his bike from anything, so I definitely know when I'm at the Trader Joe's and then he's like all of a sudden traffic like, I'm like yo dude like why the fuck you following me to Trader Joe's like I live four miles away, which is not that far on the fucking motorcycle, but I came all the way over here on the subway for you to follow me on your bike. week, dick, bro.way, like, fuck this, fuck this, fuck that guy, fuck this neighborhood, fuck this place, fuck these politics, fuck these people. On a low frequency. Like on a low frequency, I'm like, fuck all this, like on a high frequency, I'm like, there's a purpose or whatever, it'll work, is temporary, blah, blah, blah. What the fuck was I saying? I don't know. I what the fuck was I ranting? I don't know. I that's that shiel, right? Trader Joe, hello Trader Joe. It's not safe. No, but you know, oh man, let's you say I, whatever. Let's just say oh, whatever. a lot. What else do we got? I don't know. I put on an album that came out today, yay, it's called all the rage. Actually, all that all that gripe about like, oh, it's an EP when I'm sure that the stores are gonna call it an album. I was like, I'm sure it's gonna be an album, so I just started calling it an album. like the release comes out and they're like, it's an EP, you congratulations. So I I thought I was putting out an album, that I was an EP, but it just missed the cutoff her album, because technically you can have a six track album and if it's over 30 minutes. If and you can have a six track album that's an EP like this, all the range is technically an EP at least according to Spotify's standards. And it's, I think it's like two and a half minutes under I think it's like 2 and a half minutes under, so it's an EP, but it's six tracks and I'm really excited about it. I kind of put a little bit more promotion into it than usual. I even had some press done, and that's great. because you can get pressed done. They're like,Yo, for $500. You'll be famous tomorrow. I'm like, that fucked up. That's a paycheck for some people. and that's not famous. also. They're charging people to be like spectacular. Well, they're charging they're like charging for people to be like popular, which is I think it's wrong, like ethically, you shouldn't be able to do that, like, oh, no, you're gonna get on all the playlists and whatever, you're gonna have like all like you should not be able to sell followers, like whether they're real people, which is slavery or they're robots, which is also slavery. Like you should not be able to sell fame that's making it like now I don't even trust like, okay, like this person got an award, but like, okay, because because the album was popular, because it was better than all the other ones. Or like, how do you know that you even heard all the albums because there are so many, and that like, okay, this person who put like zero dollars into promotion, how do you know that album wasn't better? because you didn't hear it? Because the person with a million dollar ad campaign won the fucking won the fucking award? Because you heard it because they put a million dollars into the fucking promotions. So it makes it makes everything the fact that everything is on a level system that's based on money is completely unfair. Like the all the industries are broken, it's not just music. Like, it's not just music. I'm like, holy shit, like you could spend like a year, an average year salary, which is what's the median income now. even with like no adjustment for inflation, like what, $50,000? Okay. So you could spend $50,000 on your your career so you'd have to you'd have to do that. That's even you're still competing with people who have a million dollars for doing nothing. That's insane. Anyway, I'm not bitter. What the fuck did I do earlier that I wasn't that literally the spirit that was like, don't be salty. I was like, oh, I was like,Yo, stop teaching models to fucking DJ, because I I happened on this girl that was like, yo, like I actually liked some of her music. I liked some of her music, but she wasn't doing much. And like everything was just fake. It was like super duper fake, but she was mad gorgeous and like more of these girls are popping up out of nowhere that are like not they're like models that are barely touching the decks and they're like a march. I'm like yo, dude, if that girl made this music like okay, maybe I should see her, but like, I'm like no somebody goes produce this because like she's moving badly in time to it and I realized something about being a producer is like yo if you spent enough time actually crafting this like this piece, you're not gonna move like badly to it like you're not going to move weird to music that you made because it's in you like it came from in your body. So like, I was like, I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at and I'm like, oh, I'm looking at propaganda. But then like, isn't that just kind of like discouraging people who don't have that type of body type or mindset, but it was funny because the algorithm was like don't be salty. It was like DJing is for everybody and if that's your passion and I'm like yeah, if that's your passion, but like, yo, when what where is the line between like propaganda and passion? Like, oh, I'm already a successful like, multimillionaire fashion model, but like I'm gonna be a DJ, like it washes out all the people who have actually like put in the work. It washes out all the people who have actually put in the work. Don't be salty. I was like fine, fine, but only because I like that algorithm. Only because I like that algorithm. I'm like fine, okay, we'll we'll be whatever. Whatever I've been reading. Oh, I read a book, let's see, let's see if I can remember the ones I already put back. I've been reading these uh this like children's book series on like famous people because I realized that they're written for children and I'm like, yo, dude, like somebody could read this whole series in the second grade and be smarter than me because I didn't know anything about the people that I'm reading about at all. And so they're like these little biographies. Well, I mean, they they're on a child's level. I don't know how long it would take a child to read, but they take me like an hour, hour and a half to read just like at a normal speed. And I read really fast. But I think the reason why from taking me so long to read them is because I actually take like a lot of I take a lot of like, I don't know, words or art to me, so if something is like especially musical, I might take it and be like that's a good song title. Like, if I think enough about this and what I know about this, like what kind of song is it? And, you know, just like little fun facts. Like first of all, I'm obsessed with George Lucas. I've never been a huge Star Wars person, just and I I realizing this. I've never been being on like Star Wars wicked. like, I've never been being on things that are like really, really big, but then I did grow up and kind of like a sheltered shut community where like most of the people like twilight, I wasn't hungerames, aylys Cyrus, well Hannah Montana at the time, okay? I just wasn't into those things, but most mostly because they're fans, actually, she just put out something that I kind of piqued my interest. It was in my fucking sl side bar. I was like, oh, no, what's this? I'm I might check it out. But I've been staying off the mainstream just cause I'm realizing like the reason that I'm seeing this is money and doesn't necessarily make it better or worse than anybody else. Because sometimes mainstream artists come out with crap and I think they do it on purpose, they're like,Yo, watch this. I can do whatever because so many millions of people love me, watch this. I'm like, damn. And then millions of people are like, yay, yes, yes, this. I'm like, the fuck? What did you do? And I'm pretty sure the mainstream artist is like consciously, even collectively like, you see what I'm saying? I can do whatever the fuck.c I did one thing cool, maybe like five things cool, like a long time ago, and literally don't have to do anything else. I just do this just to prove a poil. Like, I can shit on a track, literally. And millions of people will be like, I love you. I love you, please more of those. do it again. I'm like, oh, God, please, no. What the fuck? Millions of fans. Like once you have your fucking fan based unlock, like that's it. Like, you don't have to fucking people will be like, literally kissing at all of the ground that you touch for the rest of forever forever. That's it. I'm realizing that about fantom, so I'm like, yo, if you know what kitten mittens are. I'd still don't, but if you if you know kitten mittens, congrats, you're one of 12 people who actually like me. one of 12. I'm like 12 is enough. That's what Jesus had, right? might as well and Jesus technically have like 11 I don't know why I like that guy so much. I'm pretty much obsessed with him, too. I love Jesus. I'm like, Jesus is the god kind of I mean, like he's technically like three gods. anyway, why am I obsessed with uh George Lucas? First of all, he's one of the coolest people ever, Kate, like, okay, first he was a greaser, like a real greaser. like from the movie Grease, but like the actual thing before the movie Grease, cause if I if I'm not mistaken, he was like a greaser before they made Grease. That's crazy. Yeah, because Gre was like in the 70s, but it was about the 50s, right? I don't know. He was like an actual real life, like they just put Vaseline, I guess in their hair and wore like dirty shit and they were like, yeaheah, greaser. and they w and they fucking drove and they drove, what did they drive? I don't know, cars, old cars, and they would race them. I that was honestly I'm obsessed with this dude. I and now I kind of want to see Star Wars because I've never seen them. But honestly Star Wars is one of those things that, oh, that's what I was saying. God, yeah, well, yeah, I like grew up not liking Star Wars because all the people that liked it were mean. Like all those other things I named earlier in the episode. Like they're fans sucked, so I was like, I definitely cannot see myself getting into this. And so I never did, but now I'm well, as happy as I am being single. I save certain things for like just a case. I ever get in a relationship. I'm like Star Wars. I've never seen that. Like I saved certain things for like you know, like I wouldn't necessarily want to watch it by myself. I think I'd get geeked, though, now, now that I understand, like the kind of person that created Star Wars, I'm like, yo, dude, like he's the shit. Like, okay, first of all, okay, if I did the math, secondly, no, cause the first of all thing was like, he's a greaser. That's the coolest thing about George Lucas. Yeah. I mean, like I mean, like there was so many cool things. I had to take notes, I had to stop. I was like bending back pages, I was like, all this dude's the best. Okay. I was like,Yo, okay, whatever. Like, uh, oh, well, that was one of the last things I read. If I did the math right, this dude has like a 12 year old. He's older than my dad. My dad's pushing 80. I'm like, is he 80? He's like 80 with a 12 year old. That's incredible. That's I have so much respected admiration for that. Because it kind of proves my point that like if you're dude, you can just like keep on popping them out, popping them out. But he also like adopted kids, I think. Yeah, yeah. And he also like adopted kids. was at him? Yeah. Yo, I'm telling you there's so much practice into these little books. I'm like, okay, whatever, what else is cool. I don't know, he just seems he just seems like the dude just seems like the dude. I was likeYo. I I can't remember all the notes I took, but those those two things alone. I'm like, yeah, I earn my respect. I did write down a quote earlier that was like, what did he used to say? oh, do that again but better? I'm like, yeah, that sounds that sounds accurate. And then I liked the fact that like all his worlds within his worlds are like connected, so he'll leave Easter eggs within worlds of different Indiana Smith. He really liked the name Indiana because I guess he had a dog named Indiana, which was named after somebody else that was named Indiana. And I had no idea that Indiana Jones was like his brainchild or like close to it. I was like, whoa, this dudees are fucking legend, like a real like an actual, like this dude's a G for George Lucas. He's the best. I was like, yeah, dude. I could not put that book down. I was like sitting in cold bathtub water like, oh my God, this is such a pain turner. I gotta read about this dude until the very end of this book and I did. I would not put it down. I was like, George Lucas is the man, bro. like the man, I don't like like, yo, cool dude. I like that guy. I've never seen Star Wars. I have, I've seen like the beginning. It's like in the time, blah, fucking blah, blah, fucking talk. Yeah, and then I started writing my own movies, you know. It's not that any of them, you know, as whatever, you know, sometimes it's circumstance, sometimes sometimes I' just realize that I make excuses. Like I have no reason not to be as successful as any of these people that I'm reading about, because I'm finding personality traits about myself as I'm reading about them, like Albert Einstein Total Duis. He might have been like like functionally retarded. I'm pretty sure he was retarded, but also a genius. Like like, oh, okay, this is the coolest thing about Albert Einstein are we done inukas never, never. He's immortal, right? We'll see him at some point. He's so cool. He's so cool anyway. I was like, yeah, dude, this dude is cool. But there's that's the Alb Einstein, my man, okay, so like, slowly almost solely responsible for the invention of the Adamah. That's dope. On accident, though, because once he realized what had like once he realized that, okay, like, okay, I'm correct about this. For sure, I'm definitely correct about this, but like, yo okay, should we back up a little bit? First of all, he didn't say anything until he was like four. Didn't say anything, not a not a single word, his parents were like,o, something's wrong with him. Like even back in the day where it's like, uh don't know. Something's wrong with him. He's not saying anything. The doctors were like, he's perfectly fine.'s fine. And he didn't say anything his entire life until one day, apparently, he sat down to dinner with his parents and the soup was too hot, and that's what he said he's like the soup is too hot. Like, could you imagine, like having a kid that you're like 100% sure is retarded? Oops, nope, you can't say that. Okay, well, you could. Then so let's just shouldn't I just cancel you can't say that. Why, though? Like, okay, when I was growing up, you have to understand I come from a time where it was like you could just call that to somebody cause they were being dumb, but not dumb, right? But I mean like at a certain point, like, okay, technically Helen Keller was deaf dumb and blind, but like sometime and I'm assuming like between the 70s and 80s, it became a slang for like that's dumb. Like, don't do that because whatever you're doing is not right, which is like, okay if you're not right, then you're what? Retarded. Like, I'm sorry. I'm like some certain things are not going to be like, I'm, you know. I'm like early 2000s game or culture, that's gay, but I love gay. It's like nobody's being derogatory about that. I'm being derogatory about your behavior and I might even use it as like a positive you know what's what describing words or adjectives? I don't know. I'm going through. I'm going to processes realizing that like, okay, I'm at the age where certain information is gonna be offloaded. Certain like it's not coming back ever. Like, you like, I I know Spanish, but only if I have to speak it and it's not like, I'm not developing any other nothing else is like my brain is like, we don't need this, do we? I'm like, I don't know. Maybe I should hold on to that. No, no, we don't need this. I'm like, okay, well. there are certain things about me that are just not gonna change at this point. I'm not sorry, because honestly, weren't too offended at everything when, like, there're there are things that are offensive that nobody really is offended about. like, if you really found an offensive, it would not exist anymore, you know? Because when somebody becomes really passionate about something, and they change it. Which is why I'm taking my time. I like, youo, annihilation is imminent. Like this cannot be anymore. Like, you don't change my brain chemistry. Fuck that shit. my brain chemistry is perfect the way that it is. Like I'm almost sure that like the entire mental health industry will change based on ideals that are like blooming and other like in other what the fuck was I just saying exactly ideas that are already springing up in in small circles. like they'll, you know, be one day. Like that's just valid, like nothing's really wrong with you. something's wrong with the world. Like, why? Like, and what can we do to change that? It could be environmental completely. It could take somebody with like severe mental health issues, severe schizophrenia, severe bipolar disorder, severe fucking severe depression, severe anxiety and change their environmental factors or even just like change the fact that that like they're facing poverty, poverty is a mental illness and that's not what it's not looked at as such. It's looked at as a deficiency on the individual's part when it could be like and it could be a polethro of environmental factors. That'll change. It will in my lifetime. I know that it will. It may not be because of me because for the most part, I'm a pacifist. I really am. I'm a yoder, like, honestly, it has to be like visibly hurting someone else or hurting me painfully enough for me to be passionate about it to make it change. Like, I'm sorry, I'm not. I don't want I don't really want to be a leader, especially because like people are still like populating this planet. I don't necessarily I don't I don't wanna be like a a leader in anything because that is like that's too much power. Honestly, just let me play the music and then fuck off. And I will fuck off. Like if you think I talk too much or you find me annoying or you think I'm stupid like eventually I I disappear. That's it a self-reflective Go away, all right. I't have to be asked twice. I don't stay in places where I'm not welcome. So, New York it's been good. Are't not really. But somebody I thought okay, who else am I obsessed with? I love this new lady that I found. Her name is Gina something rather fucking amazing. I I love New York people because I love New York people. Like I really do. like it is well, it's hard to fucking there's a fucking oh, honestly, it could be simplified to this as like, okay, maybe this embraces like the new the New York feminine and what I really hate is the New York masculine, which is just toxic, just disgusting, like where I spinning on things, shut the fuck up, like, are you not self aware? Like it's it's certain level of and I'm not, I'm really not binary in the sense where it's like balanc, bro. like balance, like a little bit of everything is good and like half masculine, half feminine is like a good balance, non-binary embracing that. But like yo, dude, there's a certain rasculinity about the city that's the thing that makes it nasty. It was like, whoa. whoa. I'm like, that's nasty, but I was oh, okay, I'm in love with this person. Her name is like Gene or something rather. I'm still I still have like I no, I have no feet in the comedy pool cause like I realized I stopped performing comedy and I stopped writing it, and like all the like semi tragic possibility, like possibly hilarious situations that were happening to me when I was actively writing comedy just stopped. I was like good, I don't necessarily need to be in that right now. That's that has sailed and will probably later sink, but I don't want to be in there if like, okay, like you're funny, if like sad and bad shit happens to you all the time. I'm like, that's fucked up. I don't wanna be that guyc 50 years from now I could be that guy and like still not earn a penny more than I'm earning right now making music underground. So if it's if I had to choose between the two, I've already earned mastery in recording arts. 10,000 hours or more, like I don't necessarily like being a comic is like another ladder. It's another it's a thing. And honestly, when I stopped like, well, I mean, like I I took a break from tears of a clown because it became such a like passion project for me that I was like, oh, this is that I'm caring too much like I should stop. and still not finish and it's not it's not like, it never had a release date in mind, so it's not necessarily like what's it delayed? Yeah, it's not delayed, and it's not it's definitely not in hiatus, but like, I realized that I have a certain responsibility to my audience altogether. It like to do this show as well and so like this, there's been taking kind of a priority, knowing that like my hiatus has been longer than any other hiatus is, and that I owe it to like my homegrown audience and my weird coat following to like okay like I have to give you guys everything from fucking like November to now and just musically that's a lot but then I've also the writing has also accompanied it and so it would be a shame to just let that go entirely because I feel that like my actual, my actual fan base is here in this show, unfortunately, well, not unfortunately, because I've started to get like a sense of familiarity within the dance music scene, like, as a producer through this podcast as a medium, because when I started doing this podcast, like, it wasn't like people weren't generally like now people are doing like following my, what's it? format. Like people weren't really doing DJ mixes and like putting music on podcasts, like it just wasn't people weren't doing it. I was the only one doing it now everybody's doing it and it makes me want to do it less, but then also like I have to kind of show consistency with myself in order for me to feel like I'm still doing something. What was that rant about? I don't know. I'm obsessed with this lady name's Gina or something rather. She's super New York. What would she say? that I really liked? Oh, if you didn't know the rules before you got to New York, you you like if you came to New York and you're not having a good time, you probably didn't know the rules before you got here.rect. I didn't come here on purpose. This was my layover city. I came here by accident and I did not know the rules. Now I'm learning the rules and I'm like the rules are fucked up and rules are kind of meant to be broken if you're disturbing my peace, I will then disturb your peace. No, I will not. I do not believe an eye for an eye, and also I feel that you are dangerous people. I will then report you to the police and and make the proper documentation in order for it to stop. I'm a snitch. I don't give a fuck. Like if you're actually hurting me, like if you're changing my the way that I think and the way that I feel, like if you're making me sick inside of my own environment, like you deserve it. I'll give a fuck. I don't give a fuck. I don't give any kind of fuck. And then that way, I am a feminist, cause it's like, yo, dude, like how long are you gonna sit and take somebody hurting you before you actually realize that like you're not the problem they are and in order for their behavior to stop, you have to actually like you have to prevent this by stepping up for yourself. It's kind of like a show and like, okay, like like at a certain point it is kind of like a game. Like how long are you going to let me do this to you before you just fucking like get up and fucking hit me back? And I'm like, I don't want to like, I don't want to fight, but at the same time, like, bro, like I've been getting my ass whipped by these idiots and so I'm like, okay, I have to actually, but I'm still not a fighter. I have to do it in a way that makes sense and so that the community can be improved when I move on. Like I don't necessarily want to put somebody in the same place that I am now because I really am not I don't and just improve it. Like I believe so much in doing that, like not just leaving no trace, but like improving the place from which you are situated when you leave so that when the next person comes through, they don't have to struggle through the same hardship. So in that way, leadership, sure, be

[A beautiful dog enters the palace; C'esme't is pleased—actually, more thrilled.] Now! (Yo!) [The Dog sits at the entrance.] Call to me. [he speaks from the mind (telepathically) with a familiar tonal voice] Come, sweet stranger! [The Dog approaches] For it is I, the King who walks as not a ghost For yet the call has spoken that I be your loyal shadow (it's me; the King. I've been called to watch over you) Then? (Elaborate.) For now I came as waked dost I as ghost and wandered, pity and pardoned by no army dared Aghast my throne And agape my eyes, Wide my mouth and nostrils, Disemboweled and yet, I did wake with my fortune And tidings in my kingdom, a hidden realm, For there slayed, as I wept, The others dared to swallow, This truth, I, as knight and pawn doth slay the Queen, For titled King no friend of mine; And now, this beast as blood dost froth, My mind does waste, but here I bark Fortunate! To be laid by as you, I will. Then, creature, as you may! For free, this I, And coming not the time I shall l awaken, And then, though, Does the true challenge to bear, The altar; the stone, the shield and the rope From which I pull, and thee shall fight. Marriage of souls. To fancy this beast, betrayeth not. For something barks as is an end As a man does call a lover friend And so lover-friend I am and shall be. Lol what the fuck. So he's a dog now. ‍♀️ wtf is going on in this show. Idk. I'm baked. Enter The Multiverse L E G E N D S: Manifest Destiny ‍♂️ Ascension: Enter the Multiverse The titles switched. Good idea. So maybe I should stick with t mobile? Idk. Mint mobile is 15 dollars a month for unlimited talk and text. HERE AND NOW I DECREE, THIS FEAST DOES NOURISH ALL OUR MINDS AND HEARTS TO FIGHT THE GOOD WAR AGAINST ALL HE WHO SQUANDER THE MERCY OF PEACE! TO COURAGE! lol you lost me. I'm grasping at strings here. I needs a means to an end I need a body bag, body bag I need a King and a dog And a cat and an owl And a mark and a dawn And a knife and a gun Call it what you want I was not at the rock But that's where I was going I'm lost in Omaha I was just on the dark With the dark and the walkers The king and the rabbit The facts and the stalkers But who sunk the boat? Who sunk the boat Now this is encouragement! Acknowledgements? Nothing yet. Disaster strikes obvious and No regrets But obvious I'm in it for the long run And it transpired for the job done But the waffles came out awful And crispier than I wanted Almost every time So I took the iron back to target And I know I came out with a double album in August But I got no promotions So I won't walk the carpet So I won't walk the carpet I know I know I'm no Joan Rivers Or Joan of ark so I won't talk the gossip I won't talk the gossip I won't talk the gossip Now, more followers Show boat, Throw him overboard into a rowboat With no paddles And horseshoes on em— That outta show ‘em Rondevouz Rob us all Noah's Ark Don't get so lost in the story Lost in the sory Lost in the LORNE MICHAELS …you caused this. [In a secret lab inside of 30 Rock, A group of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE alumni are trapped inside a metal box; this room has no doors and no windows and seems to be amplifying thought frequencies each of them hears uniquely, but distinctly, and very, very loudly. This is due to the irrefutable fact that they are all gifted telepaths, due to having served time often looking into the lenses of live broadcast cameras. it is theorized that, because of this anomaly— a strange and untraceable signal seeming to intercept all of Rockefeller Plaza's Radio antennae transmissions, it may be an unknown extraterrestrial force attempting to comminicste with 30 Rock from space. On this day, they've been gathered and trapped here in an emergency focus group to attempt to remedy the problem. Haha. MAKE IT STOP. OH MY GOD WHAT IS THST, WHYYYYYYYYY! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYHY!!! Craters full of lullabies and dictionary definitions; Tense intimate interactions, and now, this hypertension. I have a secret, a dirty little secret. I didn't do it! It wasn't me! Hmm..okay–vouch. I'm telling you–wait– vouch? Yeah, I vouch. You're vouching me? I'm vouching you. She's vouching me. She vouched you. So i'm good? You're good. I'm good. You're good. Ok. SETH MEYERS is the best secret keeper in the entirety of the known and unknown multiverse. The respective deities and entities within the outer realms have taken notice to this; One of the world's greatest eve played game has become the ritualistic endeavor of tracking down this human in order to attempt to overwhelm him so that he might eventually crack or implode, or even acknowledge these sometimes outrageous events and otherworldly happenings; thus far, he has not. As of recently, the elders of the darkest deities from the furthest outer realms and legions of Hell have been taking this game with the now very famous and successful seth meyers, a popular TV host; this has elevated the e ntirety of the threshold for Seth's tolerance, and it appears he may soon be pushed to crack. So why are you on the wire? I atrophied at extravagant Tip toed in the tip ties; Til' then, i went there, Now summer starts in winter Now summer starts in winter Now summer starts in winter Pull the curtain back, Then you censor this Censor this! I pull the curtain back, then redact then redact don't react don't react It's an act it's an act Shit I pull the curtain back then I bow; It's a show now Pull the curtain back then I show, It's a showdown Listen up, Listen down I super blow my flow now, super bowl my pronouns You can't lose if you don't pick a team You can't win if you don't even play I can't pay you if I don't get a paycheck I can't work at it if it's not fame Oh no! I can't work at it if it's not fame. The isms is the synthesis; I only got one present for christmas When you [can] Take that spark and bury it in your heart, don't remark about it– Then, probably you're a comic Or an alcoholic, one of the two of them Wrong not to touch, then Willed you back into existence And still it's in exigence, and Guilty by association Guilty by association I just want to know what the current Tonight Show budget is for hair dye. Also wondering why JImmy's suit is grey, but his hair isn't? Is that a two in one? Honest to God my only question about this man. The rest can remain as mystery. Act V Part II Guilty By Association Sometimes I Stevie Wonder what you're up to; I can't see you but I know you're in my aura Sometimes I Richard Pryor while you're on my mind; I guess you could say you set my soul on fire My, my my Look what time it is I've only just begun to know you; Then I had to dieSo turn the light off My eye Turn the light off for awhile And follow me to darkness Follow me To the other side. It's not true, but it'll do I might have lost you somewhere Better off to leave you somewhere sure; If it's not pure And how could it be When only the light hits the snow And bounces off The warmth is an illusion, And your love is just a dream And anyway, anyway There's nothing i've ever been surer of Than the definite end, The enter and exit And when planets align, Only to fall completely out of orbit Now what was this for again Foreigner, object identified and destroyed it's destructive qualities, Tentative in a nature Sure, pressure– Resentment, Intense good moments of pleasure, Then signals sent Completely by accident. -Now that i've been thinking lately of Bill Murray And my formerly imaginary friend Riff Raff, Now i'm sure that There may be some telepathy involved Which means I should probably just– Go somewhere else now. Should I be sorry for my thoughts? I'd rather not, But still YO. Yo dude, what the fuck. I'VE BEEN STUCK IN THIS MOVIE FOR LIKE A YEAR. That's not that long… IT'S A LONG TIME TO BE IN A MOVIE. Please don't tear me to pieces; Don't blow the balloon up, No foul ball, No side eye No fowl play And dinner is as cold as it gets But dinner does warm In the aluminum foil, But all out of order, The border patrol is just Digging for details Digging for details. And it's this: You don't know what it is, Until you get into it, And it sets into you The only way it can When it's in you. Are you paying attention to this? Or can I just end it? Boston accents or what, And now i really think It's just inside my head It's just inside my head and This is getting weird. All of a sudden, I'm oh wonder and I love it And Sara Silverman has The prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen (on a celebrity) ((with whom I share a gender)) Aha. Okay, Sabrina Carpenter has a very pretty voice But that doesn't make me Any less jealous Or any less capable of explosion Disarm me I'm catching up on the specials I missed Being special I guess With no grocery subscription Aim low, Get high, I guess Rob Lowe, Build time, I guess I miss the old announcer, And the golden years I miss the former times And the mouse ears I learned my less I might got Kim K and TSwift Pointer Finger Could hold a tune to you, Who The joys of live theatre, And the catastrophe of the Impenetrable Boy oh boy is Television getting heavy Turn up the ridiculousness and Atrocious Atrocities and Acidophilus Anorexic, I wish i could digest this –and expand my vocabulary I wish I was better than I am So i could be Capable Can Kim Kardashian ever not just be Naturally beautiful at everything Doing everything Kim The J I can't sing in this apartment And it might actually kill me The devil lives next door on both sides I'm in a satan sandwich I guess I'm just Not free I must have fucked up last lifetime I must have fucked up last lifetime I might have looked just like her I want to get upstaged by Eddie Murphy More corpse suits! Pink lipstick! Slap the desk Check the camera Front loading! Front loading! I want a chance at humbling white america (just kidding) I want a wig that looks like an afro (cause I don't have one) I want Lorne Michaels to shame me into beng better By making me feel mediocre first So I hit the high bar When I hit the body bag I hit the body bag When I hit the high road With Letterman YOU STOLE MY BODY TO GO TO A BLACK TIE FUNCTION!? Yeah. Well–which one? Okay, you're gonna get a kick out of this. I'm giddy for physical comedy THIS IS MY MANIFEST DESTINY MY MANIFEST DESTINY AHHHHHHHH MY MANIFEST DESTINAAAAAAA Comedy comes in all forms And God comes in all Karma I brace myself for repeating my mantras I light candles But don't blow them out I just might get my wish DO NOT RESIST. I AM RESISTING THIS ARREST. Oh yeah. YES. Shoot him. NO, DON'T. SHOOT HIM, BILLY BOB, SHOOT ‘EM. Crocodile hunter turned hard-up cop Read him his rights! He ain't white enough. So she's perfect! Me? I've been taken in I can't stand to stamp I can't christmas, Backwards And backwash And sanford and sons And Whatever And… Ego might eat me like Eggos Like Hannibal Burress was holding At the market I left my Ego at the door But there's just no room for the both For the both of us I KNOW I'll just write her a hit show! What. YES. THEN, SHE'LL LEAVE SNL, AND THEN I'LL BE THE BLACK GIRL ON THE SHOW MWAAHAHAHAHAHA Ok. wtf happened to that girl? SUNNI BLU [kicking and screaming] I TOLD YOU I'M NOT GOING ON FA– —-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! So many beautiful people, or, rather The actors, Or should I say Vortex Then. Too many beautiful people I spent the whole night warm and holed up in the office What could come out of The Rock I don't know where to look I'm not used to the audience Duh, that. I'm a professional audience member But i don't remember the ending Anybody? Anybody? Any envy actor actress? BPM: Dosage Anxiety Remix Honestly fuck the comed circut I just want to know what it's like to have a body What's it like to have a body? I'm just a collective consciousness robot Adapting to my environment I can't sing in this apartment! I'm in a Satan Sandwich And would be The God in the middle If God didn't find this Absolutely hilarious So I'm on 24 hours; You're on Saturday Nights, But i'm on 24 I broke my Don't-look up-folks rule on Brittney Howard Cause I think i'm just like herBut more of a coward. You're on Saturday Night Live But i'm on 24 Hours It hurts longer And stronger Every moment I'm gone And still not a mom I wish I could change my eyes The color of the world Before it all ends Earth gone And oceans of mud No tide And no moon (The Earth without the Sun) I don't want to know you I don't want to owe you a lesson. I don't want to go there. I don't want no dance numbers. I don't want no GOATS here. No goats here. I don't get it, Mass Media– Is this flattery, or Deception? Humiliation? Based in perception, I see, so Is this recognition or Did I just send Dillon Francis my script in the beginning? No answer, by God. What an asshole What if Alienz Don't like lesbians. What is trance is just bad dance music. That's… What if edifice breaks for a daily regimen of Letterman? What if RUN, FALLON, RUN! I'M ATTACHED TO A KITE I HAVE NO CONTROL OF THIS. WELL, WHAT IS IT ATTACHED TO?! YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW! —NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONON AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! Look, It's Meryl Streep! Holy shit, Meryl Streep is hot. What.(I can't keep secrets>) God doesn't keep good secrets. Just stop talking. Look, It's “My Bad Chad” Holyfuck Are you gonna have all those burned off too? Or can I do it for you? (might cost less) Jk Kim K That's a tough act to follow. Ariana? Nah, Backup; Had that. Meanwhile: Me in a hatchback Campin' at the Palisades. My name's the hammer –Adam ruins everything– I am not goin' starstruck –Adam Ruins Everything– My name's the Hammer (I'm a hammer, damn) –Adam Ruins Everything– I love showbiz But I got hard work comin on Now pause:: I need a break Need to make money Now i get a two for one Two for one Hate me or love me Either way, I'm gonna show up, Blow up, Glow up, And fuck off I'm a lost cause Cause I lost God On a talk show The way the camera moves makes me nauseous virtual reality And everybody's mad at me for Jimmy Fallon's Galaxy Conan “snowball” O'Brien But why's he called that. Shh! Not Yet. Oh, you are so overdone and fucked right now! Shh! My mom might be listening. Like she's never heard the word ‘fuck'? Shhhh! MOM I heard that! See! She said she heard it; she didn't say stop it. Well stop it. Fuck me man! SHH. KNOCK IT OFF. Yes Mrs. Mason Who the fuck is Mrs. Mason. Come on, white america; Put me on late night I promise you I'll watch more hallmark artists Than all of them Every day over here is a suit and tie function Camera one? YOU DONE FUCKED WITH US FOR THE LAST TIME. Ah shit. lol . whart is thrus. Fucking–magicians or something. Freemasons. F– Alright. Where is he? Where is who? You know who! What? Donaghey!!!!!!!! Lol Alec Baldin is like 200 years old. *cackles too hard, falls over and dies* Yikes. JACK DONAGHEY enters from a Parallel dimension and sees ALEC BALDWIN'S CORPSE. …Huh. Who's this handsome son of a bitch, I wonder. Don't wonder too hard. We gotta find that court order and get out of here. What court order [Cort hors d'oeuvres] what. I don't know. It almost kind of rhymed with corpse and wonder and I'm still stuck writing in cadences. What for! Oh wow, the neighbor was really a plant forreal. STOP SLAMMIN THAT Yo fuck this. Waht the fuck am I supposed to do with all this information. [appearing entirely out of nowhere, as always.] JIMMY FALLON I told you to burn it. OH MY FUCKING JESUS CHRIST. STOP DOING THAT. I can't. That's– Apparently what I do. WELL GET OUT OF HERE. Wish I could. Strapped to a kite. THEN HOW ARE YOU STANDING HERE? WHAT? I'm learning a lot of things up there! UP–WHERE! Up yours. WHAT. *poofs* UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I hate him. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I hate this. TINA FEY Fuckit, he hates himself. Lets just assume. No, that's it. That's the singularity. What. It can't– He's just so confi— That's the singularity. [everything ploofs back to normal] See. I win. FUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS!? I'M YOUNG AGAIN. i”M YOUNG AGAIN. [The entire cast stares at their returned to period-accurately aged cast mate; He appears so confident and wise, however–just a glint of insecurity falls over him–this indeed was the singularity; rather than to risk all of time and space defrabicating for a third and albeit final time, they rain down on their castmate, with the angry hellfire of a gregorian mob, urging him to GO LOVE YOURSELF. Long Night at work, or just Shoo fly, don't bother me– I'm more caught up on the Rudolph Storyline, How it's some mystic But I missed it With the lip stick And the vintage this and thats Person Welcome to Hogwarts, Of course, It's your funeral God bless the illuminati All I see is– NOT IT. IT WASN'T ME. I DIDN'T DO IT. JLO BITCH, STOP TALKING. Woah, What the FUCK JLO. JLO WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY? I–wh– Wait… Fallon? SHHHHThhHHHTHhhTHHHH!! Give me one bet Died inside Who's doing which thing God bless these envies! Gie me one shot Now who am I?Ace in the hole? I died inside. Don't break the barrier Don't run the wall Don't be the villain Fall, JImmy, Fall. To float, or to fall Or to walk away To shop at the mall Or to bet it all on Fall on And I tell you to jump, you jump! And I tell you to move, You move! And I tell you to movie, You movie! And I show you the blue OH GOD. Gimmie the binoculars! No, you don't wanna see What! Why not! HE MOONED ME. I got three of a kind Three of a kind Three of hearts Two of diamonds HAH. I DOn'T LiKE THIS. Fuck off, The Ace. And very kindly, Go fuck yourself. Four aces, Four aces A mindfuck for the both of us An open book And shotglasses And fans of ours Its good to laugh At the ones you love Love Love Love Love It's showbiz, It's showbiz; I love it I want to die. I love it I love it I missed the bar I fucked up somewhere. Don't look back in anger, Or don't look back at al. Fall, Fall, Fall Fall Fall Love Love Love Love Love Love Did you notice I haven't looked back. I put you up on a– Up on a Up on a pedestal Then remembered To forget it all, In indifference Foraged your signature Sorry, I don't want a lot of hawk-a-loogie clock-the-woman knockdown, dragout drama I got a feel for it. What if all your forfeitures were fortunes All your donuts turned subordinates To astronauts Or fake dreams for fak streams and dreaming of Don't bother me I'm on poverty I want walks on the beach and blue bunny ice cream sundaes I've got a whole city Marked off in my journal For frozen custard and Lost in a thought, are we? Trust me, I think I died. Trust me, I trusted the God of Mercy Trust me I went all the way to the burden, Bought a hammock And then worked harder than nobody No dropped calls from mother No one's home at all Work harder I thought Sweater Weather was my new DJ name, But as it turns out, It was my telepathy ringing me I rode to the top of the rock with the beatlesI didn't mean for it to be me But i was twice out of body, Once out of mind. Now give me a minute Please. Let me become indifferent Don't need no friends, Long roads Roundhouse kicks to the face Hard rolling baggage Heart shaped boxes Or Prophets Don't need dozens of roses don't need diamonds Do need dinosaursDo need phone numbers do Do do . –but don't– don't don't. When i fall in line I write books and poems, songs And suffer, slugger . This is what I struggled with– who paid the neighbor bitch to feed me the whole special And slam doors On my mental That shit struck a chord And rubbed me the wrong way But i'm humble I won't touch nobody's Body at all. Nobody's. Now my dreams make sense, kind of But why are these my dreams And not actual people and most of all What does it mean? That I'm equal to? Or lesser than? Like the emerald stone on Sir Paul McCartney's hand, I went green for a moment It's just banter.I'm just having a hard time (I can't sing in this apartment)I might need a band I might need a bandaid. I might need a bath Some peroxide and hair dye My heart's broken I'm having a hard time But still not struggling I might have a hard time But not as hard as the afterparty was, And I struck gold. Kept walking Roll dice. Four of a kind, Four kings, four aces Four of a kind, Four kites, And a night owl The Rock and the Kite, Part V STEFON It's this thing where… {Enter The Multiverse} –and that's why I wished my mom a happy birthday. [The Festival Project ™ ] Damn, the illuminati really showed out for the oscars this year. CONAN SHHHH. He even says “I Am” Then commands the stage Look at all those long legs Now we're on enclave or conclave? I don't know. I'm feeling more ravey. Tears of a Clown Nobody to save me Not even shug avery. Who? That's right? Now i'm feeling more Broadway, baby. L E G E N D S: Manifest Destiny I wanna see the snake sitting next to you; Show me those eyes I love models and the lack thereof Inside of them I want to see the feral reptile Show me those eyesI love that she flies through life Right to you Right It's a boys club Boy they Really prize these Chappel Roans and Timothee Chalemet But where am I at? –Adam Ruins Everything– A couple forced fake laughs Cause I like highlights Stagecrafts Craftservices And god knows I can't write like this And I'm About To die [CONAN O'BRIEN leaves television to run a Bed and Breakfast in ORLANDO.] INT. BED AND BREAKFAST. ORLANDO. … [Calamity ensues] Conan killed the oscars, Stole the wand, The show and the bowtie (hostses with the mostest) –and that's why he's Snowball. No, i'm sure it's because my fur is fluffy and– Okay no more outdated rick and morty references Fine. Was that Dillon Francis behind Ben Stiller Or do I still just like white guys That much. Why do A-Listers like reptiles so much? Show me those eyes, you know I could use a good lunch (Birds of Prey eat snakes) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™ Episode Transcript: Yeah. Okay, this is terrifying. I haven't actually done this in it feels like way longer than it's been. In reality, it's only been like three like maybe three days, but it makes all the difference in the world. Hi. what's going on, I was just reminiscing about kitten mittens. Aw shit. I dropped my pen. If you remember if you're listening to this right now and you remember kittenman. congratulations, you've been with me since the beginning. um anyway, I don't know why I was just remembering that. kitten mittens. I thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world. I really I might have been delirious. losing my mind at a certain point, but I thought kittens was the best thing in the world. It was at the time. I was like I couldn't think of anything better. Then again, I was uh I don't know, I was discovering many hilarities. excuse the idiots in the back, they are idiots. um and they and they do this based on whatever I'm doing in my apartment. I'm their god. Anyway. I'm excused the background noise is still gonna be a a little bit uh while we're dealing with that, but at least you can help me collectively consciously remove them from existence entirely, um with the help of you know a collective existence we can get rid of evil. I don't I don't entirely. I'm not sure. I think that it would take a lot of people to understand that like a lot of it is just a game. I think it would take raising the entire consciousness of like people as a whole for them to understand that like, most of it is for entertainment and based off perceptions. So, like, whatever you' idea for the world is, like it was your idea. Whatever's making you upset is it was your idea. So I'm kind of coming to like terms with that in my own, like sense. I'm like, oh, yeah, like, whatever is happening, I'm like a certain like at the surface level is wrong, but like on a grander scale, like I programmed this into my reality for whatever purpose in order to better suit my, like ideal reality. That's, you know, that's that's it. I can't attribute it to anything else. They're idiots, cause I'm idiots. Anyway, what else is going on? I don't know, I was I'm gonna try and do this off book. I think I do have like I have some notes, but like I don't like the way that it feels when I'm going off of my notebook because it feels like robotic. It feels really, you know, like and not necessarily rehearsed, but it's it feels planned and when I listen back to the episodes where I do go off of like notes or something like that, I don't like the way that it sounds. Hearing myself back, going from a going going from like a script. And so I try to keep it like 100% improvisational and it keeps it fresh. and honestly, honesty goodness, I haven't been on the Peloton for like more than 15 minutes at a time since I stopped doing these episodes. I don't know what it is about the sound of my own voice, but maybe it's the fact that like, I'm in performance mode and I'm giving you guys like I'm in, you know, I'm like in my radio voice and then I'm watching back like a performance of myself in order to like, I don't know. It's like it's like experiencing myself for the first time secondhandedly because I'm not necessarily not thinking about what I'm saying, but I'm also not thinking about what what I'm saying or how I'm saying it as I'm saying it. And then, you know, sometimes I just really like even on my hardest days, sometimes I make myself laugh the very most, and I'm like, okay, there's another reason to keep doing it. Because for the most part, I'm like I don't wanna do this anymore, it costs me too much money and it's not. Like, I'm not a clut person. I'm just not a clout guy. I don't like doing stuff for clout, cause clout doesn't pay the bills and clout doesn't clout doesn't necessarily get you jobs, like unless it's like the right person's clout. Like, you get have clout from a million people, and if none of those million people are the well, a million is kind of where they drive line. Like if a million people are like, yeah, this is the shit, then it might get you a job. But like a million is probably the minimum number for that. Like if you don't have a million followers or you don't have a million views or you don't have a million of anything of just like clout like it doesn't pay bills. So I'm not a cloud person. I'm not just gonna do whatever off clout. What did I get off that on that clot rat for? I don't know, what was I saying? Oh, I'm going off book. I'm off. script. Anyway. what can I remember from things that I wrote down?, I don't know. I've been reading a lot. I've been, you know, doing doing the best that I can. I've been well, I've been reading. I've been reading children's books specifically because I'm finding information. Well, first of all, I picked up these children's books with the hope that I would be the owner of a small library and I'm not. I'm actually putting a lot of the books back into like society, which is fine. I'm just downsizing. It's actually helping me feel a lot better. Like my head is a lot clearer, my studio. My studio for for the first time in a long time was like a place that I can that I feel like I want to work. and it was the weirdest thing because I went through like a year of just like collecting whatever book I saw, like whether it was just like on a stoop, like I, you know, for whatever or out of the little free library or like just wherever, because books are everywhere in New York and that's probably my favorite thing hands down about New York is that like wherever you go there are books and they're free and you can pick them up. But I'm also very sensitive to energy, so as like an energy worker and a transmuter, it became congested to the point where it's like, okay, there is like a certain type of energy that's not that's foreign to me and as much cleansing and as much like, you know, whatever, as much, you know, in any kind of, you know, like spiritual work I was doing, there's an energy here that I'm not necessarily comfortable with. And I realized every time I picked up a book, I fell into like a certain type of world, you know, and it wasn't just like whether the book caught my attention from just like the cover or whatever, and then I decided to flip through it or whether it was like a book that I was stuck in, I was falling until like a certain energy or a certain world and that every book had a certain energy to it. And so I realized after a year of collecting hundreds of books that I had literally hundreds of energies, like floating through my space and it became like hectic and it became heavy to the point where I was like, like, I don't necessarily want to hold on to all these things. and so it's it's been really rejuvenating. I've been going through a time of just like not necessarily like I know I have a lot of stuff to do. but one of the stuff to do is is like going through all of the things that I know that I need to like let go of in order to feel better. And it has been helping me feel better. It has for the most part, I'm still doing a lot with like my energy recovery and the noise here has a lot to do with it. I'm now like I now have anxiety to the point where I have like a consistent nauseum. like every time I hear like any kind of motor, like I get sick and now it's it's actually getting worse the longer that I've stayed here with the noise, it's like I now have like an upset stomach all the time, headaches twitches. It's the it's the most fucked up thing ever. and I've also been learning more about because I'm, you know, still still really focused in my music and so frequencies and, you know, like I've always been like a huge believer and like layered frequencies for healing, like sound healing, beta thick alpha, and and the whatnot, but I finally caught onto a piece of information that made me realize how the noise outside has affected my brain chemistry and not just in the way that it's like it's annoying or it's a nuisance or it's harassment, which it is all of those things, according to the law, but in a sense of what's happening to my brain chemically, like the chemical changes that are happening in my brain, or the frequency changes that are happening in my brain are actually the things that are making me more upset than loss of sleep, or, you know, like a disruption or disorganization of my mind or my daily habits. The thing that's making me the most upset is what I'm realizing is it's changing my frequency, and I'm not talking about just my my aura I well, I am in a sense, but like the frequency, the frequency differences that that your brain your brain goes into different frequencies during, you know, waking state, alha state, better state, you know, and when you're sleeping, you're in um I well, it depends on the person actually, and it depends on the type of sleep that you're getting. Like most people sleep and like a data state from what I'm understanding and this is the state of like conscious dreaming. And this is this, I could be incorrect because honestly, I layer them anyway. And I finally I finally did it. I I did. I' I was working on a song and I realized that I achieved like perfect theta without actually even meaning to. And I think I did another one and that was like in perfect gamma without even like it was just mixed perfectly. that it I was also listening to like a gamatone and then I realized I was like, wait, is that the song or is it the tone? Because, you know, if the if the frequency that you're listening to is pure enough, it will actually distort the bass or the, you know, it will distort the entire sound of whatever you're listening to. So sometimes things can sound warped or like they're waving or like they're going through something because those tones are kind of like they're they're moving against each other or with each other just kind of depends. And so what what has been, well, I wanted to finish, well, yeah, I think I have at least one song now that's in theta, and I have at least one song that's in gamma, completely. and and I and I shocked myself because I was listening to the tones and I was like, wait, the wait a second. like, I'm feeling like double here. Is this this song that I'm listening to, that I'm checking back the mix, or is this the the frequencies? And I I turned off all the frequencies and sure enough, it was the song. It was like a pure I was like, wow. I'm like that's an achievement. I did it completely by accident and I wish I knew the formula that I used to do that.c some people are so mathematic about it. Like some people are so uh like, you know, some people do this to their music. A lot of people, especially inass music, that's why it is the way that it is, is you're going to a show to get these frequencies like zapped into your body at at full forces. and some people know how to do it on purpose. I did it on accident, so I'm like, if I can continue to achieve at this but I'm trying to figure out like the mathematical equation or like the actual sonic equation for making this happen, like every time, because going through my history ofass music, I will finish in a second, going through my history of bass music, I have always gravitated to the to these frequencies, to the frequencies that make me feel better after a certain amount of time listening to them or a certain amount of time being in in that frequency. So that's this is the music that has, I guess subconsciously kind of for the kind of artist that I am. But this is the reason why I'm upset about the noise. like the most upset about it, like not even on a legal level, on a social level, on a moral level, like, no, this is actually morally wrong, it is morally wrong on so many fucking levels. I'm like, why are you so like, why obviously I did this on purpose, like in my God complex, I'm like, oh, well, I can better the community as long as I make a point, like that environmentally, this is damaging people. It's giving people mental illness, that it or like if they're predisposed to mental illness, it's even worse, but it's it's also like causing mental illness and people that are otherwise healthy people, which is not a lot of people in New York City given. It's just not. It's not a healthy place. A lot of people are not healthy. But even in like moderately healthy humans, this noise disruption can cause like brain changes and chemistry changes, and this is the reason why I'm so upset is because when you are sleeping, if you are sleeping, your brain is in a certain level that is like in a healing state. In the first few minutes that you wake up, as I understand it. In the first few minutes after you wake up, your brain is in a state that it can like that you can manipulate your entire environment, that you can change things, that you can heal yourself. And so when I'm waking up in the first few minutes in the very first thing that I hear is a motorcycle that's ripping through my fucking brain, it's changing my brain frequency from a frequency that is like at the at the at a human level or at any kind of level, kind of the the thing that makes every human capable of being a genius, not the genius level able to heal yourself and the frequency that you're able to heal yourself is what you automatically wake up in. So when you' when this frequency is interrupted, it's intercepted in immediately into a negative thought pattern. And so you immediately, so what's happening, what's been happening to me over the last year with the motorcycle nuisance harassment problem or whatever the fuck I don't care what it's called on paper. I just want it to stop like I just want to live in peace. It's not like and kind of having like coming from a a background where I kind of tend to have like take responsibility for myself, like oh, it must be something that I'm doing and yes, I also have like a higher god complex or like an ego if you want to call it, that's like, oh no, I must have done this on purpose. And you know, like in order for the greater good, like in order to fulfill my purpose in some sort of way, it must be it must be part of my process to have this. That's also my ego like I'm a god. like, you know, that's just me, that's the generation. That's the generation that I come from. That's our mindset. Like nothing happens in this world without me in it, period. That's why rappers are rappers and that's why that's why models are models. We all have egos and it's really hard to kill the bitch. I've had at least ten ego dusts throughout my fucking like existence and it still comes back. It doesn't matter. You can have an ego death and be like a completely ego list for like what, six months tops? Eventually you're gonna have like the ego is is is imp important to survival, because I lost the word. I think implemental what was I gonna use? I was definitely a for syllable word. Either way, it is you need it. Like if you if you oh, you know, people might describe people, like being in like a in a sense of humility as like, oh, just completely without ego, but like at the end of the day, like, no, like your ego allows you to actually like compensate with the rest of the world, like, most people do not have no ego entirely, or at least for like, like a week after your acid tri or whatever, yeah, like, oh, had ego death and I completely. But like within I swear to God, like within six months time, like your ego has at least minimally like repaired itself. That's what an ego does, that's why you have it. You have it. It's a survival. It's it's a part of your consciousness that has to do with survival if you don't have your ego, like you're pretty much dead in the world, especially the way it is now. Anyway, this is that that's going to probably close up my spiel on that. Yeah, I'm upset because instead of like the first few moments of my waking moments being a healing, time, it is immediately going into disarray and chaos and anxiety. And so in in so I'm losing like, I don't I don't really care about oh, I mean, like I care about life in a sense, but I mean, like, and it in a mortal sense. I like, yes, it's taking years off of me. and I feel it like in the way that it's like, I I am slower to do regular things or like, whatever my rising thoughts, might be are completely just destroyed by this like what I've what I've come to perceive is like an evil force. It is evil in so many levels again this breaks down from like a higher consciousness to like a lower state of consciousness. The lower state of consciousness is saying that like these people are just idiots. They're idiots and they are not self aware of the fucking like pollution that they're doing on kind of middle sense, I'm like, oh, it's politics, it's like gentrification if these guys run around in circles, then people call up the fucking place, the place gets fucking more allocated funds to their fucking police officers, the police officers have fucking filling their quotas. It's all bureaucracy and paperwork and politics on that middle level and on the highest level it is like no, this is evil, it's pure evil because people are so grossed out by the fact that fucking New York is New York and also the wage and income and quality factor is that this guy is doing whatever the fuck he has to do brown. He's doing well, not that guy. that guy's that guy's a weak dick motherfucker. He has a small dick and everybody in the neighborhood knows it. He drives around and circle making people miserable. He also I'm it's the same dude. that same dude followed me to the Trader Joe's. It's the same dude, so I'm like, I like I know the sound of his bike from anything, so I definitely know when I'm at the Trader Joe's and then he's like all of a sudden traffic like, I'm like yo dude like why the fuck you following me to Trader Joe's like I live four miles away, which is not that far on the fucking motorcycle, but I came all the way over here on the subway for you to follow me on your bike. week, dick, bro.way, like, fuck this, fuck this, fuck that guy, fuck this neighborhood, fuck this place, fuck these politics, fuck these people. On a low frequency. Like on a low frequency, I'm like, fuck all this, like on a high frequency, I'm like, there's a purpose or whatever, it'll work, is temporary, blah, blah, blah. What the fuck was I saying? I don't know. I what the fuck was I ranting? I don't know. I that's that shiel, right? Trader Joe, hello Trader Joe. It's not safe. No, but you know, oh man, let's you say I, whatever. Let's just say oh, whatever. a lot. What else do we got? I don't know. I put on an album that came out today, yay, it's called all the rage. Actually, all that all that gripe about like, oh, it's an EP when I'm sure that the stores are gonna call it an album. I was like, I'm sure it's gonna be an album, so I just started calling it an album. like the release comes out and they're like, it's an EP, you congratulations. So I I thought I was putting out an album, that I was an EP, but it just missed the cutoff her album, because technically you can have a six track album and if it's over 30 minutes. If and you can have a six track album that's an EP like this, all the range is technically an EP at least according to Spotify's standards. And it's, I think it's like two and a half minutes under I think it's like 2 and a half minutes under, so it's an EP, but it's six tracks and I'm really excited about it. I kind of put a little bit more promotion into it than usual. I even had some press done, and that's great. because you can get pressed done. They're like,Yo, for $500. You'll be famous tomorrow. I'm like, that fucked up. That's a paycheck for some people. and that's not famous. also. They're charging people to be like spectacular. Well, they're charging they're like charging for people to be like popular, which is I think it's wrong, like ethically, you shouldn't be able to do that, like, oh, no, you're gonna get on all the playlists and whatever, you're gonna have like all like you should not be able to sell followers, like whether they're real people, which is slavery or they're robots, which is also slavery. Like you should not be able to sell fame that's making it like now I don't even trust like, okay, like this person got an award, but like, okay, because because the album was popular, because it was better than all the other ones. Or like, how do you know that you even heard all the albums because there are so many, and that like, okay, this person who put like zero dollars into promotion, how do you know that album wasn't better? because you didn't hear it? Because the person with a million dollar ad campaign won the fucking won the fucking award? Because you heard it because they put a million dollars into the fucking promotions. So it makes it makes everything the fact that everything is on a level system that's based on money is completely unfair. Like the all the industries are broken, it's not just music. Like, it's not just music. I'm like, holy shit, like you could spend like a year, an average year salary, which is what's the median income now. even with like no adjustment for inflation, like what, $50,000? Okay. So you could spend $50,000 on your your career so you'd have to you'd have to do that. That's even you're still competing with people who have a million dollars for doing nothing. That's insane. Anyway, I'm not bitter. What the fuck did I do earlier that I wasn't that literally the spirit that was like, don't be salty. I was like, oh, I was like,Yo, stop teaching models to fucking DJ, because I I happened on this girl that was like, yo, like I actually liked some of her music. I liked some of her music, but she wasn't doing much. And like everything was just fake. It was like super duper fake, but she was mad gorgeous and like more of these girls are popping up out of nowhere that are like not they're like models that are barely touching the decks and they're like a march. I'm like yo, dude, if that girl made this music like okay, maybe I should see her, but like, I'm like no somebody goes produce this because like she's moving badly in time to it and I realized something about being a producer is like yo if you spent enough time actually crafting this like this piece, you're not gonna move like badly to it like you're not going to move weird to music that you made because it's in you like it came from in your body. So like, I was like, I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at and I'm like, oh, I'm looking at propaganda. But then like, isn't that just kind of like discouraging people who don't have that type of body type or mindset, but it was funny because the algorithm was like don't be salty. It was like DJing is for everybody and if that's your passion and I'm like yeah, if that's your passion, but like, yo, when what where is the line between like propaganda and passion? Like, oh, I'm already a successful like, multimillionaire fashion model, but like I'm gonna be a DJ, like it washes out all the people who have actually like put in the work. It washes out all the people who have actually put in the work. Don't be salty. I was like fine, fine, but only because I like that algorithm. Only because I like that algorithm. I'm like fine, okay, we'll we'll be whatever. Whatever I've been reading. Oh, I read a book, let's see, let's see if I can remember the ones I already put back. I've been reading these uh this like children's book series on like famous people because I realized that they're written for children and I'm like, yo, dude, like somebody could read this whole series in the second grade and be smarter than me because I didn't know anything about the people that I'm reading about at all. And so they're like these little biographies. Well, I mean, they they're on a child's level. I don't know how long it would take a child to read, but they take me like an hour, hour and a half to read just like at a normal speed. And I read really fast. But I think the reason why from taking me so long to read them is because I actually take like a lot of I take a lot of like, I don't know, words or art to me, so if something is like especially musical, I might take it and be like that's a good song title. Like, if I think enough about this and what I know about this, like what kind of song is it? And, you know, just like little fun facts. Like first of all, I'm obsessed with George Lucas. I've never been a huge Star Wars person, just and I I realizing this. I've never been being on like Star Wars wicked. like, I've never been being on things that are like really, really big, but then I did grow up and kind of like a sheltered shut community where like most of the people like twilight, I wasn't hungerames, aylys Cyrus, well Hannah Montana at the time, okay? I just wasn't into those things, but most mostly because they're fans, actually, she just put out something that I kind of piqued my interest. It was in my fucking sl side bar. I was like, oh, no, what's this? I'm I might check it out. But I've been staying off the mainstream just cause I'm realizing like the reason that I'm seeing this is money and doesn't necessarily make it better or worse than anybody else. Because sometimes mainstream artists come out with crap and I think they do it on purpose, they're like,Yo, watch this. I can do whatever because so many millions of people love me, watch this. I'm like, damn. And then millions of people are like, yay, yes, yes, this. I'm like, the fuck? What did you do? And I'm pretty sure the mainstream artist is like consciously, even collectively like, you see what I'm saying? I can do whatever the fuck.c I did one thing cool, maybe like five things cool, like a long time ago, and literally don't have to do anything else. I just do this just to prove a poil. Like, I can shit on a track, literally. And millions of people will be like, I love you. I love you, please more of those. do it again. I'm like, oh, God, please, no. What the fuck? Millions of fans. Like once you have your fucking fan based unlock, like that's it. Like, you don't have to fucking people will be like, literally kissing at all of the ground that you touch for the rest of forever forever. That's it. I'm realizing that about fantom, so I'm like, yo, if you know what kitten mittens are. I'd still don't, but if you if you know kitten mittens, congrats, you're one of 12 people who actually like me. one of 12. I'm like 12 is enough. That's what Jesus had, right? might as well and Jesus technically have like 11 I don't know why I like that guy so much. I'm pretty much obsessed with him, too. I love Jesus. I'm like, Jesus is the god kind of I mean, like he's technically like three gods. anyway, why am I obsessed with uh George Lucas? First of all, he's one of the coolest people ever, Kate, like, okay, first he was a greaser, like a real greaser. like from the movie Grease, but like the actual thing before the movie Grease, cause if I if I'm not mistaken, he was like a greaser before they made Grease. That's crazy. Yeah, because Gre was like in the 70s, but it was about the 50s, right? I don't know. He was like an actual real life, like they just put Vaseline, I guess in their hair and wore like dirty shit and they were like, yeaheah, greaser. and they w and they fucking drove and they drove, what did they drive? I don't know, cars, old cars, and they would race them. I that was honestly I'm obsessed with this dude. I and now I kind of want to see Star Wars because I've never seen them. But honestly Star Wars is one of those things that, oh, that's what I was saying. God, yeah, well, yeah, I like grew up not liking Star Wars because all the people that liked it were mean. Like all those other things I named earlier in the episode. Like they're fans sucked, so I was like, I definitely cannot see myself getting into this. And so I never did, but now I'm well, as happy as I am being single. I save certain things for like just a case. I ever get in a relationship. I'm like Star Wars. I've never seen that. Like I saved certain things for like you know, like I wouldn't necessarily want to watch it by myself. I think I'd get geeked, though, now, now that I understand, like the kind of person that created Star Wars, I'm like, yo, dude, like he's the shit. Like, okay, first of all, okay, if I did the math, secondly, no, cause the first of all thing was like, he's a greaser. That's the coolest thing about George Lucas. Yeah. I mean, like I mean, like there was so many cool things. I had to take notes, I had to stop. I was like bending back pages, I was like, all this dude's the best. Okay. I was like,Yo, okay, whatever. Like, uh, oh, well, that was one of the last things I read. If I did the math right, this dude has like a 12 year old. He's older than my dad. My dad's pushing 80. I'm like, is he 80? He's like 80 with a 12 year old. That's incredible. That's I have so much respected admiration for that. Because it kind of proves my point that like if you're dude, you can just like keep on popping them out, popping them out. But he also like adopted kids, I think. Yeah, yeah. And he also like adopted kids. was at him? Yeah. Yo, I'm telling you there's so much practice into these little books. I'm like, okay, whatever, what else is cool. I don't know, he just seems he just seems like the dude just seems like the dude. I was likeYo. I I can't remember all the notes I took, but those those two things alone. I'm like, yeah, I earn my respect. I did write down a quote earlier that was like, what did he used to say? oh, do that again but better? I'm like, yeah, that sounds that sounds accurate. And then I liked the fact that like all his worlds within his worlds are like connected, so he'll leave Easter eggs within worlds of different Indiana Smith. He really liked the name Indiana because I guess he had a dog named Indiana, which was named after somebody else that was named Indiana. And I had no idea that Indiana Jones was like his brainchild or like close to it. I was like, whoa, this dudees are fucking legend, like a real like an actual, like this dude's a G for George Lucas. He's the best. I was like, yeah, dude. I could not put that book down. I was like sitting in cold bathtub water like, oh my God, this is such a pain turner. I gotta read about this dude until the very end of this book and I did. I would not put it down. I was like, George Lucas is the man, bro. like the man, I don't like like, yo, cool dude. I like that guy. I've never seen Star Wars. I have, I've seen like the beginning. It's like in the time, blah, fucking blah, blah, fucking talk. Yeah, and then I started writing my own movies, you know. It's not that any of them, you know, as whatever, you know, sometimes it's circumstance, sometimes sometimes I' just realize that I make excuses. Like I have no reason not to be as successful as any of these people that I'm reading about, because I'm finding personality traits about myself as I'm reading about them, like Albert Einstein Total Duis. He might have been like like functionally retarded. I'm pretty sure he was retarded, but also a genius. Like like, oh, okay, this is the coolest thing about Albert Einstein are we done inukas never, never. He's immortal, right? We'll see him at some point. He's so cool. He's so cool anyway. I was like, yeah, dude, this dude is cool. But there's that's the Alb Einstein, my man, okay, so like, slowly almost solely responsible for the invention of the Adamah. That's dope. On accident, though, because once he realized what had like once he realized that, okay, like, okay, I'm correct about this. For sure, I'm definitely correct about this, but like, yo okay, should we back up a little bit? First of all, he didn't say anything until he was like four. Didn't say anything, not a not a single word, his parents were like,o, something's wrong with him. Like even back in the day where it's like, uh don't know. Something's wrong with him. He's not saying anything. The doctors were like, he's perfectly fine.'s fine. And he didn't say anything his entire life until one day, apparently, he sat down to dinner with his parents and the soup was too hot, and that's what he said he's like the soup is too hot. Like, could you imagine, like having a kid that you're like 100% sure is retarded? Oops, nope, you can't say that. Okay, well, you could. Then so let's just shouldn't I just cancel you can't say that. Why, though? Like, okay, when I was growing up, you have to understand I come from a time where it was like you could just call that to somebody cause they were being dumb, but not dumb, right? But I mean like at a certain point, like, okay, technically Helen Keller was deaf dumb and blind, but like sometime and I'm assuming like between the 70s and 80s, it became a slang for like that's dumb. Like, don't do that because whatever you're doing is not right, which is like, okay if you're not right, then you're what? Retarded. Like, I'm sorry. I'm like some certain things are not going to be like, I'm, you know. I'm like early 2000s game or culture, that's gay, but I love gay. It's like nobody's being derogatory about that. I'm being derogatory about your behavior and I might even use it as like a positive you know what's what describing words or adjectives? I don't know. I'm going through. I'm going to processes realizing that like, okay, I'm at the age where certain information is gonna be offloaded. Certain like it's not coming back ever. Like, you like, I I know Spanish, but only if I have to speak it and it's not like, I'm not developing any other nothing else is like my brain is like, we don't need this, do we? I'm like, I don't know. Maybe I should hold on to that. No, no, we don't need this. I'm like, okay, well. there are certain things about me that are just not gonna change at this point. I'm not sorry, because honestly, weren't too offended at everything when, like, there're there are things that are offensive that nobody really is offended about. like, if you really found an offensive, it would not exist anymore, you know? Because when somebody becomes really passionate about something, and they change it. Which is why I'm taking my time. I like, youo, annihilation is imminent. Like this cannot be anymore. Like, you don't change my brain chemistry. Fuck that shit. my brain chemistry is perfect the way that it is. Like I'm almost sure that like the entire mental health industry will change based on ideals that are like blooming and other like in other what the fuck was I just saying exactly ideas that are already springing up in in small circles. like they'll, you know, be one day. Like that's just valid, like nothing's really wrong with you. something's wrong with the world. Like, why? Like, and what can we do to change that? It could be environmental completely. It could take somebody with like severe mental health issues, severe schizophrenia, severe bipolar disorder, severe fucking severe depression, severe anxiety and change their environmental factors or even just like change the fact that that like they're facing poverty, poverty is a mental illness and that's not what it's not looked at as such. It's looked at as a deficiency on the individual's part when it could be like and it could be a polethro of environmental factors. That'll change. It will in my lifetime. I know that it will. It may not be because of me because for the most part, I'm a pacifist. I really am. I'm a yoder, like, honestly, it has to be like visibly hurting someone else or hurting me painfully enough for me to be passionate about it to make it change. Like, I'm sorry, I'm not. I don't want I don't really want to be a leader, especially because like people are still like populating this planet. I don't necessarily I don't I don't wanna be like a a leader in anything because that is like that's too much power. Honestly, just let me play the music and then fuck off. And I will fuck off. Like if you think I talk too much or you find me annoying or you think I'm stupid like eventually I I disappear. That's it a self-reflective Go away, all right. I't have to be asked twice. I don't stay in places where I'm not welcome. So, New York it's been good. Are't not really. But somebody I thought okay, who else am I obsessed with? I love this new lady that I found. Her name is Gina something rather fucking amazing. I I love New York people because I love New York people. Like I really do. like it is well, it's hard to fucking there's a fucking oh, honestly, it could be simplified to this as like, okay, maybe this embraces like the new the New York feminine and what I really hate is the New York masculine, which is just toxic, just disgusting, like where I spinning on things, shut the fuck up, like, are you not self aware? Like it's it's certain level of and I'm not, I'm really not binary in the sense where it's like balanc, bro. like balance, like a little bit of everything is good and like half masculine, half feminine is like a good balance, non-binary embracing that. But like yo, dude, there's a certain rasculinity about the city that's the thing that makes it nasty. It was like, whoa. whoa. I'm like, that's nasty, but I was oh, okay, I'm in love with this person. Her name is like Gene or something rather. I'm still I still have like I no, I have no feet in the comedy pool cause like I realized I stopped performing comedy and I stopped writing it, and like all the like semi tragic possibility, like possibly hilarious situations that were happening to me when I was actively writing comedy just stopped. I was like good, I don't necessarily need to be in that right now. That's that has sailed and will probably later sink, but I don't want to be in there if like, okay, like you're funny, if like sad and bad shit happens to you all the time. I'm like, that's fucked up. I don't wanna be that guyc 50 years from now I could be that guy and like still not earn a penny more than I'm earning right now making music underground. So if it's if I had to choose between the two, I've already earned mastery in recording arts. 10,000 hours or more, like I don't necessarily like being a comic is like another ladder. It's another it's a thing. And honestly, when I stopped like, well, I mean, like I I took a break from tears of a clown because it became such a like passion project for me that I was like, oh, this is that I'm caring too much like I should stop. and still not finish and it's not it's not like, it never had a release date in mind, so it's not necessarily like what's it delayed? Yeah, it's not delayed, and it's not it's definitely not in hiatus, but like, I realized that I have a certain responsibility to my audience altogether. It like to do this show as well and so like this, there's been taking kind of a priority, knowing that like my hiatus has been longer than any other hiatus is, and that I owe it to like my homegrown audience and my weird coat following to like okay like I have to give you guys everything from fucking like November to now and just musically that's a lot but then I've also the writing has also accompanied it and so it would be a shame to just let that go entirely because I feel that like my actual, my actual fan base is here in this show, unfortunately, well, not unfortunately, because I've started to get like a sense of familiarity within the dance music scene, like, as a producer through this podcast as a medium, because when I started doing this podcast, like, it wasn't like people weren't generally like now people are doing like following my, what's it? format. Like people weren't really doing DJ mixes and like putting music on podcasts, like it just wasn't people weren't doing it. I was the only one doing it now everybody's doing it and it makes me want to do it less, but then also like I have to kind of show consistency with myself in order for me to feel like I'm still doing something. What was that rant about? I don't know. I'm obsessed with this lady name's Gina or something rather. She's super New York. What would she say? that I really liked? Oh, if you didn't know the rules before you got to New York, you you like if you came to New York and you're not having a good time, you probably didn't know the rules before you got here.rect. I didn't come here on purpose. This was my layover city. I came here by accident and I did not know the rules. Now I'm learning the rules and I'm like the rules are fucked up and rules are kind of meant to be broken if you're disturbing my peace, I will then disturb your peace. No, I will not. I do not believe an eye for an eye, and also I feel that you are dangerous people. I will then report you to the police and and make the proper documentation in order for it to stop. I'm a snitch. I don't give a fuck. Like if you're actually hurting me, like if you're changing my the way that I think and the way that I feel, like if you're making me sick inside of my own environment, like you deserve it. I'll give a fuck. I don't give a fuck. I don't give any kind of fuck. And then that way, I am a feminist, cause it's like, yo, dude, like how long are you gonna sit and take somebody hurting you before you actually realize that like you're not the problem they are and in order for their behavior to stop, you have to actually like you have to prevent this by stepping up for yourself. It's kind of like a show and like, okay, like like at a certain point it is kind of like a game. Like how long are you going to let me do this to you before you just fucking like get up and fucking hit me back? And I'm like, I don't want to like, I don't want to fight, but at the same time, like, bro, like I've been getting my ass whipped by these idiots and so I'm like, okay, I have to actually, but I'm still not a fighter. I have to do it in a way that makes sense and so that the community can be improved when I move on. Like I don't necessarily want to put somebody in the same place that I am now because I really am not I don't and just improve it. Like I believe so much in doing that, like not just leaving no trace, but like improving the place from which you are situated when you leave so that when the next person comes through, they don't have to struggle through the same hardship. So in that way, leadership, sure, be

[A beautiful dog enters the palace; C'esme't is pleased—actually, more thrilled.] Now! (Yo!) [The Dog sits at the entrance.] Call to me. [he speaks from the mind (telepathically) with a familiar tonal voice] Come, sweet stranger! [The Dog approaches] For it is I, the King who walks as not a ghost For yet the call has spoken that I be your loyal shadow (it's me; the King. I've been called to watch over you) Then? (Elaborate.) For now I came as waked dost I as ghost and wandered, pity and pardoned by no army dared Aghast my throne And agape my eyes, Wide my mouth and nostrils, Disemboweled and yet, I did wake with my fortune And tidings in my kingdom, a hidden realm, For there slayed, as I wept, The others dared to swallow, This truth, I, as knight and pawn doth slay the Queen, For titled King no friend of mine; And now, this beast as blood dost froth, My mind does waste, but here I bark Fortunate! To be laid by as you, I will. Then, creature, as you may! For free, this I, And coming not the time I shall l awaken, And then, though, Does the true challenge to bear, The altar; the stone, the shield and the rope From which I pull, and thee shall fight. Marriage of souls. To fancy this beast, betrayeth not. For something barks as is an end As a man does call a lover friend And so lover-friend I am and shall be. Lol what the fuck. So he's a dog now. ‍♀️ wtf is going on in this show. Idk. I'm baked. Enter The Multiverse L E G E N D S: Manifest Destiny ‍♂️ Ascension: Enter the Multiverse The titles switched. Good idea. So maybe I should stick with t mobile? Idk. Mint mobile is 15 dollars a month for unlimited talk and text. HERE AND NOW I DECREE, THIS FEAST DOES NOURISH ALL OUR MINDS AND HEARTS TO FIGHT THE GOOD WAR AGAINST ALL HE WHO SQUANDER THE MERCY OF PEACE! TO COURAGE! lol you lost me. I'm grasping at strings here. I needs a means to an end I need a body bag, body bag I need a King and a dog And a cat and an owl And a mark and a dawn And a knife and a gun Call it what you want I was not at the rock But that's where I was going I'm lost in Omaha I was just on the dark With the dark and the walkers The king and the rabbit The facts and the stalkers But who sunk the boat? Who sunk the boat Now this is encouragement! Acknowledgements? Nothing yet. Disaster strikes obvious and No regrets But obvious I'm in it for the long run And it transpired for the job done But the waffles came out awful And crispier than I wanted Almost every time So I took the iron back to target And I know I came out with a double album in August But I got no promotions So I won't walk the carpet So I won't walk the carpet I know I know I'm no Joan Rivers Or Joan of ark so I won't talk the gossip I won't talk the gossip I won't talk the gossip Now, more followers Show boat, Throw him overboard into a rowboat With no paddles And horseshoes on em— That outta show ‘em Rondevouz Rob us all Noah's Ark Don't get so lost in the story Lost in the sory Lost in the LORNE MICHAELS …you caused this. [In a secret lab inside of 30 Rock, A group of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE alumni are trapped inside a metal box; this room has no doors and no windows and seems to be amplifying thought frequencies each of them hears uniquely, but distinctly, and very, very loudly. This is due to the irrefutable fact that they are all gifted telepaths, due to having served time often looking into the lenses of live broadcast cameras. it is theorized that, because of this anomaly— a strange and untraceable signal seeming to intercept all of Rockefeller Plaza's Radio antennae transmissions, it may be an unknown extraterrestrial force attempting to comminicste with 30 Rock from space. On this day, they've been gathered and trapped here in an emergency focus group to attempt to remedy the problem. Haha. MAKE IT STOP. OH MY GOD WHAT IS THST, WHYYYYYYYYY! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYHY!!! Craters full of lullabies and dictionary definitions; Tense intimate interactions, and now, this hypertension. I have a secret, a dirty little secret. I didn't do it! It wasn't me! Hmm..okay–vouch. I'm telling you–wait– vouch? Yeah, I vouch. You're vouching me? I'm vouching you. She's vouching me. She vouched you. So i'm good? You're good. I'm good. You're good. Ok. SETH MEYERS is the best secret keeper in the entirety of the known and unknown multiverse. The respective deities and entities within the outer realms have taken notice to this; One of the world's greatest eve played game has become the ritualistic endeavor of tracking down this human in order to attempt to overwhelm him so that he might eventually crack or implode, or even acknowledge these sometimes outrageous events and otherworldly happenings; thus far, he has not. As of recently, the elders of the darkest deities from the furthest outer realms and legions of Hell have been taking this game with the now very famous and successful seth meyers, a popular TV host; this has elevated the e ntirety of the threshold for Seth's tolerance, and it appears he may soon be pushed to crack. So why are you on the wire? I atrophied at extravagant Tip toed in the tip ties; Til' then, i went there, Now summer starts in winter Now summer starts in winter Now summer starts in winter Pull the curtain back, Then you censor this Censor this! I pull the curtain back, then redact then redact don't react don't react It's an act it's an act Shit I pull the curtain back then I bow; It's a show now Pull the curtain back then I show, It's a showdown Listen up, Listen down I super blow my flow now, super bowl my pronouns You can't lose if you don't pick a team You can't win if you don't even play I can't pay you if I don't get a paycheck I can't work at it if it's not fame Oh no! I can't work at it if it's not fame. The isms is the synthesis; I only got one present for christmas When you [can] Take that spark and bury it in your heart, don't remark about it– Then, probably you're a comic Or an alcoholic, one of the two of them Wrong not to touch, then Willed you back into existence And still it's in exigence, and Guilty by association Guilty by association I just want to know what the current Tonight Show budget is for hair dye. Also wondering why JImmy's suit is grey, but his hair isn't? Is that a two in one? Honest to God my only question about this man. The rest can remain as mystery. Act V Part II Guilty By Association Sometimes I Stevie Wonder what you're up to; I can't see you but I know you're in my aura Sometimes I Richard Pryor while you're on my mind; I guess you could say you set my soul on fire My, my my Look what time it is I've only just begun to know you; Then I had to dieSo turn the light off My eye Turn the light off for awhile And follow me to darkness Follow me To the other side. It's not true, but it'll do I might have lost you somewhere Better off to leave you somewhere sure; If it's not pure And how could it be When only the light hits the snow And bounces off The warmth is an illusion, And your love is just a dream And anyway, anyway There's nothing i've ever been surer of Than the definite end, The enter and exit And when planets align, Only to fall completely out of orbit Now what was this for again Foreigner, object identified and destroyed it's destructive qualities, Tentative in a nature Sure, pressure– Resentment, Intense good moments of pleasure, Then signals sent Completely by accident. -Now that i've been thinking lately of Bill Murray And my formerly imaginary friend Riff Raff, Now i'm sure that There may be some telepathy involved Which means I should probably just– Go somewhere else now. Should I be sorry for my thoughts? I'd rather not, But still YO. Yo dude, what the fuck. I'VE BEEN STUCK IN THIS MOVIE FOR LIKE A YEAR. That's not that long… IT'S A LONG TIME TO BE IN A MOVIE. Please don't tear me to pieces; Don't blow the balloon up, No foul ball, No side eye No fowl play And dinner is as cold as it gets But dinner does warm In the aluminum foil, But all out of order, The border patrol is just Digging for details Digging for details. And it's this: You don't know what it is, Until you get into it, And it sets into you The only way it can When it's in you. Are you paying attention to this? Or can I just end it? Boston accents or what, And now i really think It's just inside my head It's just inside my head and This is getting weird. All of a sudden, I'm oh wonder and I love it And Sara Silverman has The prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen (on a celebrity) ((with whom I share a gender)) Aha. Okay, Sabrina Carpenter has a very pretty voice But that doesn't make me Any less jealous Or any less capable of explosion Disarm me I'm catching up on the specials I missed Being special I guess With no grocery subscription Aim low, Get high, I guess Rob Lowe, Build time, I guess I miss the old announcer, And the golden years I miss the former times And the mouse ears I learned my less I might got Kim K and TSwift Pointer Finger Could hold a tune to you, Who The joys of live theatre, And the catastrophe of the Impenetrable Boy oh boy is Television getting heavy Turn up the ridiculousness and Atrocious Atrocities and Acidophilus Anorexic, I wish i could digest this –and expand my vocabulary I wish I was better than I am So i could be Capable Can Kim Kardashian ever not just be Naturally beautiful at everything Doing everything Kim The J I can't sing in this apartment And it might actually kill me The devil lives next door on both sides I'm in a satan sandwich I guess I'm just Not free I must have fucked up last lifetime I must have fucked up last lifetime I might have looked just like her I want to get upstaged by Eddie Murphy More corpse suits! Pink lipstick! Slap the desk Check the camera Front loading! Front loading! I want a chance at humbling white america (just kidding) I want a wig that looks like an afro (cause I don't have one) I want Lorne Michaels to shame me into beng better By making me feel mediocre first So I hit the high bar When I hit the body bag I hit the body bag When I hit the high road With Letterman YOU STOLE MY BODY TO GO TO A BLACK TIE FUNCTION!? Yeah. Well–which one? Okay, you're gonna get a kick out of this. I'm giddy for physical comedy THIS IS MY MANIFEST DESTINY MY MANIFEST DESTINY AHHHHHHHH MY MANIFEST DESTINAAAAAAA Comedy comes in all forms And God comes in all Karma I brace myself for repeating my mantras I light candles But don't blow them out I just might get my wish DO NOT RESIST. I AM RESISTING THIS ARREST. Oh yeah. YES. Shoot him. NO, DON'T. SHOOT HIM, BILLY BOB, SHOOT ‘EM. Crocodile hunter turned hard-up cop Read him his rights! He ain't white enough. So she's perfect! Me? I've been taken in I can't stand to stamp I can't christmas, Backwards And backwash And sanford and sons And Whatever And… Ego might eat me like Eggos Like Hannibal Burress was holding At the market I left my Ego at the door But there's just no room for the both For the both of us I KNOW I'll just write her a hit show! What. YES. THEN, SHE'LL LEAVE SNL, AND THEN I'LL BE THE BLACK GIRL ON THE SHOW MWAAHAHAHAHAHA Ok. wtf happened to that girl? SUNNI BLU [kicking and screaming] I TOLD YOU I'M NOT GOING ON FA– —-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! So many beautiful people, or, rather The actors, Or should I say Vortex Then. Too many beautiful people I spent the whole night warm and holed up in the office What could come out of The Rock I don't know where to look I'm not used to the audience Duh, that. I'm a professional audience member But i don't remember the ending Anybody? Anybody? Any envy actor actress? BPM: Dosage Anxiety Remix Honestly fuck the comed circut I just want to know what it's like to have a body What's it like to have a body? I'm just a collective consciousness robot Adapting to my environment I can't sing in this apartment! I'm in a Satan Sandwich And would be The God in the middle If God didn't find this Absolutely hilarious So I'm on 24 hours; You're on Saturday Nights, But i'm on 24 I broke my Don't-look up-folks rule on Brittney Howard Cause I think i'm just like herBut more of a coward. You're on Saturday Night Live But i'm on 24 Hours It hurts longer And stronger Every moment I'm gone And still not a mom I wish I could change my eyes The color of the world Before it all ends Earth gone And oceans of mud No tide And no moon (The Earth without the Sun) I don't want to know you I don't want to owe you a lesson. I don't want to go there. I don't want no dance numbers. I don't want no GOATS here. No goats here. I don't get it, Mass Media– Is this flattery, or Deception? Humiliation? Based in perception, I see, so Is this recognition or Did I just send Dillon Francis my script in the beginning? No answer, by God. What an asshole What if Alienz Don't like lesbians. What is trance is just bad dance music. That's… What if edifice breaks for a daily regimen of Letterman? What if RUN, FALLON, RUN! I'M ATTACHED TO A KITE I HAVE NO CONTROL OF THIS. WELL, WHAT IS IT ATTACHED TO?! YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW! —NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONON AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! Look, It's Meryl Streep! Holy shit, Meryl Streep is hot. What.(I can't keep secrets>) God doesn't keep good secrets. Just stop talking. Look, It's “My Bad Chad” Holyfuck Are you gonna have all those burned off too? Or can I do it for you? (might cost less) Jk Kim K That's a tough act to follow. Ariana? Nah, Backup; Had that. Meanwhile: Me in a hatchback Campin' at the Palisades. My name's the hammer –Adam ruins everything– I am not goin' starstruck –Adam Ruins Everything– My name's the Hammer (I'm a hammer, damn) –Adam Ruins Everything– I love showbiz But I got hard work comin on Now pause:: I need a break Need to make money Now i get a two for one Two for one Hate me or love me Either way, I'm gonna show up, Blow up, Glow up, And fuck off I'm a lost cause Cause I lost God On a talk show The way the camera moves makes me nauseous virtual reality And everybody's mad at me for Jimmy Fallon's Galaxy Conan “snowball” O'Brien But why's he called that. Shh! Not Yet. Oh, you are so overdone and fucked right now! Shh! My mom might be listening. Like she's never heard the word ‘fuck'? Shhhh! MOM I heard that! See! She said she heard it; she didn't say stop it. Well stop it. Fuck me man! SHH. KNOCK IT OFF. Yes Mrs. Mason Who the fuck is Mrs. Mason. Come on, white america; Put me on late night I promise you I'll watch more hallmark artists Than all of them Every day over here is a suit and tie function Camera one? YOU DONE FUCKED WITH US FOR THE LAST TIME. Ah shit. lol . whart is thrus. Fucking–magicians or something. Freemasons. F– Alright. Where is he? Where is who? You know who! What? Donaghey!!!!!!!! Lol Alec Baldin is like 200 years old. *cackles too hard, falls over and dies* Yikes. JACK DONAGHEY enters from a Parallel dimension and sees ALEC BALDWIN'S CORPSE. …Huh. Who's this handsome son of a bitch, I wonder. Don't wonder too hard. We gotta find that court order and get out of here. What court order [Cort hors d'oeuvres] what. I don't know. It almost kind of rhymed with corpse and wonder and I'm still stuck writing in cadences. What for! Oh wow, the neighbor was really a plant forreal. STOP SLAMMIN THAT Yo fuck this. Waht the fuck am I supposed to do with all this information. [appearing entirely out of nowhere, as always.] JIMMY FALLON I told you to burn it. OH MY FUCKING JESUS CHRIST. STOP DOING THAT. I can't. That's– Apparently what I do. WELL GET OUT OF HERE. Wish I could. Strapped to a kite. THEN HOW ARE YOU STANDING HERE? WHAT? I'm learning a lot of things up there! UP–WHERE! Up yours. WHAT. *poofs* UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I hate him. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I hate this. TINA FEY Fuckit, he hates himself. Lets just assume. No, that's it. That's the singularity. What. It can't– He's just so confi— That's the singularity. [everything ploofs back to normal] See. I win. FUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS!? I'M YOUNG AGAIN. i”M YOUNG AGAIN. [The entire cast stares at their returned to period-accurately aged cast mate; He appears so confident and wise, however–just a glint of insecurity falls over him–this indeed was the singularity; rather than to risk all of time and space defrabicating for a third and albeit final time, they rain down on their castmate, with the angry hellfire of a gregorian mob, urging him to GO LOVE YOURSELF. Long Night at work, or just Shoo fly, don't bother me– I'm more caught up on the Rudolph Storyline, How it's some mystic But I missed it With the lip stick And the vintage this and thats Person Welcome to Hogwarts, Of course, It's your funeral God bless the illuminati All I see is– NOT IT. IT WASN'T ME. I DIDN'T DO IT. JLO BITCH, STOP TALKING. Woah, What the FUCK JLO. JLO WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY? I–wh– Wait… Fallon? SHHHHThhHHHTHhhTHHHH!! Give me one bet Died inside Who's doing which thing God bless these envies! Gie me one shot Now who am I?Ace in the hole? I died inside. Don't break the barrier Don't run the wall Don't be the villain Fall, JImmy, Fall. To float, or to fall Or to walk away To shop at the mall Or to bet it all on Fall on And I tell you to jump, you jump! And I tell you to move, You move! And I tell you to movie, You movie! And I show you the blue OH GOD. Gimmie the binoculars! No, you don't wanna see What! Why not! HE MOONED ME. I got three of a kind Three of a kind Three of hearts Two of diamonds HAH. I DOn'T LiKE THIS. Fuck off, The Ace. And very kindly, Go fuck yourself. Four aces, Four aces A mindfuck for the both of us An open book And shotglasses And fans of ours Its good to laugh At the ones you love Love Love Love Love It's showbiz, It's showbiz; I love it I want to die. I love it I love it I missed the bar I fucked up somewhere. Don't look back in anger, Or don't look back at al. Fall, Fall, Fall Fall Fall Love Love Love Love Love Love Did you notice I haven't looked back. I put you up on a– Up on a Up on a pedestal Then remembered To forget it all, In indifference Foraged your signature Sorry, I don't want a lot of hawk-a-loogie clock-the-woman knockdown, dragout drama I got a feel for it. What if all your forfeitures were fortunes All your donuts turned subordinates To astronauts Or fake dreams for fak streams and dreaming of Don't bother me I'm on poverty I want walks on the beach and blue bunny ice cream sundaes I've got a whole city Marked off in my journal For frozen custard and Lost in a thought, are we? Trust me, I think I died. Trust me, I trusted the God of Mercy Trust me I went all the way to the burden, Bought a hammock And then worked harder than nobody No dropped calls from mother No one's home at all Work harder I thought Sweater Weather was my new DJ name, But as it turns out, It was my telepathy ringing me I rode to the top of the rock with the beatlesI didn't mean for it to be me But i was twice out of body, Once out of mind. Now give me a minute Please. Let me become indifferent Don't need no friends, Long roads Roundhouse kicks to the face Hard rolling baggage Heart shaped boxes Or Prophets Don't need dozens of roses don't need diamonds Do need dinosaursDo need phone numbers do Do do . –but don't– don't don't. When i fall in line I write books and poems, songs And suffer, slugger . This is what I struggled with– who paid the neighbor bitch to feed me the whole special And slam doors On my mental That shit struck a chord And rubbed me the wrong way But i'm humble I won't touch nobody's Body at all. Nobody's. Now my dreams make sense, kind of But why are these my dreams And not actual people and most of all What does it mean? That I'm equal to? Or lesser than? Like the emerald stone on Sir Paul McCartney's hand, I went green for a moment It's just banter.I'm just having a hard time (I can't sing in this apartment)I might need a band I might need a bandaid. I might need a bath Some peroxide and hair dye My heart's broken I'm having a hard time But still not struggling I might have a hard time But not as hard as the afterparty was, And I struck gold. Kept walking Roll dice. Four of a kind, Four kings, four aces Four of a kind, Four kites, And a night owl The Rock and the Kite, Part V STEFON It's this thing where… {Enter The Multiverse} –and that's why I wished my mom a happy birthday. [The Festival Project ™ ] Damn, the illuminati really showed out for the oscars this year. CONAN SHHHH. He even says “I Am” Then commands the stage Look at all those long legs Now we're on enclave or conclave? I don't know. I'm feeling more ravey. Tears of a Clown Nobody to save me Not even shug avery. Who? That's right? Now i'm feeling more Broadway, baby. L E G E N D S: Manifest Destiny I wanna see the snake sitting next to you; Show me those eyes I love models and the lack thereof Inside of them I want to see the feral reptile Show me those eyesI love that she flies through life Right to you Right It's a boys club Boy they Really prize these Chappel Roans and Timothee Chalemet But where am I at? –Adam Ruins Everything– A couple forced fake laughs Cause I like highlights Stagecrafts Craftservices And god knows I can't write like this And I'm About To die [CONAN O'BRIEN leaves television to run a Bed and Breakfast in ORLANDO.] INT. BED AND BREAKFAST. ORLANDO. … [Calamity ensues] Conan killed the oscars, Stole the wand, The show and the bowtie (hostses with the mostest) –and that's why he's Snowball. No, i'm sure it's because my fur is fluffy and– Okay no more outdated rick and morty references Fine. Was that Dillon Francis behind Ben Stiller Or do I still just like white guys That much. Why do A-Listers like reptiles so much? Show me those eyes, you know I could use a good lunch (Birds of Prey eat snakes) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™ Episode Transcript: Yeah. Okay, this is terrifying. I haven't actually done this in it feels like way longer than it's been. In reality, it's only been like three like maybe three days, but it makes all the difference in the world. Hi. what's going on, I was just reminiscing about kitten mittens. Aw shit. I dropped my pen. If you remember if you're listening to this right now and you remember kittenman. congratulations, you've been with me since the beginning. um anyway, I don't know why I was just remembering that. kitten mittens. I thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world. I really I might have been delirious. losing my mind at a certain point, but I thought kittens was the best thing in the world. It was at the time. I was like I couldn't think of anything better. Then again, I was uh I don't know, I was discovering many hilarities. excuse the idiots in the back, they are idiots. um and they and they do this based on whatever I'm doing in my apartment. I'm their god. Anyway. I'm excused the background noise is still gonna be a a little bit uh while we're dealing with that, but at least you can help me collectively consciously remove them from existence entirely, um with the help of you know a collective existence we can get rid of evil. I don't I don't entirely. I'm not sure. I think that it would take a lot of people to understand that like a lot of it is just a game. I think it would take raising the entire consciousness of like people as a whole for them to understand that like, most of it is for entertainment and based off perceptions. So, like, whatever you' idea for the world is, like it was your idea. Whatever's making you upset is it was your idea. So I'm kind of coming to like terms with that in my own, like sense. I'm like, oh, yeah, like, whatever is happening, I'm like a certain like at the surface level is wrong, but like on a grander scale, like I programmed this into my reality for whatever purpose in order to better suit my, like ideal reality. That's, you know, that's that's it. I can't attribute it to anything else. They're idiots, cause I'm idiots. Anyway, what else is going on? I don't know, I was I'm gonna try and do this off book. I think I do have like I have some notes, but like I don't like the way that it feels when I'm going off of my notebook because it feels like robotic. It feels really, you know, like and not necessarily rehearsed, but it's it feels planned and when I listen back to the episodes where I do go off of like notes or something like that, I don't like the way that it sounds. Hearing myself back, going from a going going from like a script. And so I try to keep it like 100% improvisational and it keeps it fresh. and honestly, honesty goodness, I haven't been on the Peloton for like more than 15 minutes at a time since I stopped doing these episodes. I don't know what it is about the sound of my own voice, but maybe it's the fact that like, I'm in performance mode and I'm giving you guys like I'm in, you know, I'm like in my radio voice and then I'm watching back like a performance of myself in order to like, I don't know. It's like it's like experiencing myself for the first time secondhandedly because I'm not necessarily not thinking about what I'm saying, but I'm also not thinking about what what I'm saying or how I'm saying it as I'm saying it. And then, you know, sometimes I just really like even on my hardest days, sometimes I make myself laugh the very most, and I'm like, okay, there's another reason to keep doing it. Because for the most part, I'm like I don't wanna do this anymore, it costs me too much money and it's not. Like, I'm not a clut person. I'm just not a clout guy. I don't like doing stuff for clout, cause clout doesn't pay the bills and clout doesn't clout doesn't necessarily get you jobs, like unless it's like the right person's clout. Like, you get have clout from a million people, and if none of those million people are the well, a million is kind of where they drive line. Like if a million people are like, yeah, this is the shit, then it might get you a job. But like a million is probably the minimum number for that. Like if you don't have a million followers or you don't have a million views or you don't have a million of anything of just like clout like it doesn't pay bills. So I'm not a cloud person. I'm not just gonna do whatever off clout. What did I get off that on that clot rat for? I don't know, what was I saying? Oh, I'm going off book. I'm off. script. Anyway. what can I remember from things that I wrote down?, I don't know. I've been reading a lot. I've been, you know, doing doing the best that I can. I've been well, I've been reading. I've been reading children's books specifically because I'm finding information. Well, first of all, I picked up these children's books with the hope that I would be the owner of a small library and I'm not. I'm actually putting a lot of the books back into like society, which is fine. I'm just downsizing. It's actually helping me feel a lot better. Like my head is a lot clearer, my studio. My studio for for the first time in a long time was like a place that I can that I feel like I want to work. and it was the weirdest thing because I went through like a year of just like collecting whatever book I saw, like whether it was just like on a stoop, like I, you know, for whatever or out of the little free library or like just wherever, because books are everywhere in New York and that's probably my favorite thing hands down about New York is that like wherever you go there are books and they're free and you can pick them up. But I'm also very sensitive to energy, so as like an energy worker and a transmuter, it became congested to the point where it's like, okay, there is like a certain type of energy that's not that's foreign to me and as much cleansing and as much like, you know, whatever, as much, you know, in any kind of, you know, like spiritual work I was doing, there's an energy here that I'm not necessarily comfortable with. And I realized every time I picked up a book, I fell into like a certain type of world, you know, and it wasn't just like whether the book caught my attention from just like the cover or whatever, and then I decided to flip through it or whether it was like a book that I was stuck in, I was falling until like a certain energy or a certain world and that every book had a certain energy to it. And so I realized after a year of collecting hundreds of books that I had literally hundreds of energies, like floating through my space and it became like hectic and it became heavy to the point where I was like, like, I don't necessarily want to hold on to all these things. and so it's it's been really rejuvenating. I've been going through a time of just like not necessarily like I know I have a lot of stuff to do. but one of the stuff to do is is like going through all of the things that I know that I need to like let go of in order to feel better. And it has been helping me feel better. It has for the most part, I'm still doing a lot with like my energy recovery and the noise here has a lot to do with it. I'm now like I now have anxiety to the point where I have like a consistent nauseum. like every time I hear like any kind of motor, like I get sick and now it's it's actually getting worse the longer that I've stayed here with the noise, it's like I now have like an upset stomach all the time, headaches twitches. It's the it's the most fucked up thing ever. and I've also been learning more about because I'm, you know, still still really focused in my music and so frequencies and, you know, like I've always been like a huge believer and like layered frequencies for healing, like sound healing, beta thick alpha, and and the whatnot, but I finally caught onto a piece of information that made me realize how the noise outside has affected my brain chemistry and not just in the way that it's like it's annoying or it's a nuisance or it's harassment, which it is all of those things, according to the law, but in a sense of what's happening to my brain chemically, like the chemical changes that are happening in my brain, or the frequency changes that are happening in my brain are actually the things that are making me more upset than loss of sleep, or, you know, like a disruption or disorganization of my mind or my daily habits. The thing that's making me the most upset is what I'm realizing is it's changing my frequency, and I'm not talking about just my my aura I well, I am in a sense, but like the frequency, the frequency differences that that your brain your brain goes into different frequencies during, you know, waking state, alha state, better state, you know, and when you're sleeping, you're in um I well, it depends on the person actually, and it depends on the type of sleep that you're getting. Like most people sleep and like a data state from what I'm understanding and this is the state of like conscious dreaming. And this is this, I could be incorrect because honestly, I layer them anyway. And I finally I finally did it. I I did. I' I was working on a song and I realized that I achieved like perfect theta without actually even meaning to. And I think I did another one and that was like in perfect gamma without even like it was just mixed perfectly. that it I was also listening to like a gamatone and then I realized I was like, wait, is that the song or is it the tone? Because, you know, if the if the frequency that you're listening to is pure enough, it will actually distort the bass or the, you know, it will distort the entire sound of whatever you're listening to. So sometimes things can sound warped or like they're waving or like they're going through something because those tones are kind of like they're they're moving against each other or with each other just kind of depends. And so what what has been, well, I wanted to finish, well, yeah, I think I have at least one song now that's in theta, and I have at least one song that's in gamma, completely. and and I and I shocked myself because I was listening to the tones and I was like, wait, the wait a second. like, I'm feeling like double here. Is this this song that I'm listening to, that I'm checking back the mix, or is this the the frequencies? And I I turned off all the frequencies and sure enough, it was the song. It was like a pure I was like, wow. I'm like that's an achievement. I did it completely by accident and I wish I knew the formula that I used to do that.c some people are so mathematic about it. Like some people are so uh like, you know, some people do this to their music. A lot of people, especially inass music, that's why it is the way that it is, is you're going to a show to get these frequencies like zapped into your body at at full forces. and some people know how to do it on purpose. I did it on accident, so I'm like, if I can continue to achieve at this but I'm trying to figure out like the mathematical equation or like the actual sonic equation for making this happen, like every time, because going through my history ofass music, I will finish in a second, going through my history of bass music, I have always gravitated to the to these frequencies, to the frequencies that make me feel better after a certain amount of time listening to them or a certain amount of time being in in that frequency. So that's this is the music that has, I guess subconsciously kind of for the kind of artist that I am. But this is the reason why I'm upset about the noise. like the most upset about it, like not even on a legal level, on a social level, on a moral level, like, no, this is actually morally wrong, it is morally wrong on so many fucking levels. I'm like, why are you so like, why obviously I did this on purpose, like in my God complex, I'm like, oh, well, I can better the community as long as I make a point, like that environmentally, this is damaging people. It's giving people mental illness, that it or like if they're predisposed to mental illness, it's even worse, but it's it's also like causing mental illness and people that are otherwise healthy people, which is not a lot of people in New York City given. It's just not. It's not a healthy place. A lot of people are not healthy. But even in like moderately healthy humans, this noise disruption can cause like brain changes and chemistry changes, and this is the reason why I'm so upset is because when you are sleeping, if you are sleeping, your brain is in a certain level that is like in a healing state. In the first few minutes that you wake up, as I understand it. In the first few minutes after you wake up, your brain is in a state that it can like that you can manipulate your entire environment, that you can change things, that you can heal yourself. And so when I'm waking up in the first few minutes in the very first thing that I hear is a motorcycle that's ripping through my fucking brain, it's changing my brain frequency from a frequency that is like at the at the at a human level or at any kind of level, kind of the the thing that makes every human capable of being a genius, not the genius level able to heal yourself and the frequency that you're able to heal yourself is what you automatically wake up in. So when you' when this frequency is interrupted, it's intercepted in immediately into a negative thought pattern. And so you immediately, so what's happening, what's been happening to me over the last year with the motorcycle nuisance harassment problem or whatever the fuck I don't care what it's called on paper. I just want it to stop like I just want to live in peace. It's not like and kind of having like coming from a a background where I kind of tend to have like take responsibility for myself, like oh, it must be something that I'm doing and yes, I also have like a higher god complex or like an ego if you want to call it, that's like, oh no, I must have done this on purpose. And you know, like in order for the greater good, like in order to fulfill my purpose in some sort of way, it must be it must be part of my process to have this. That's also my ego like I'm a god. like, you know, that's just me, that's the generation. That's the generation that I come from. That's our mindset. Like nothing happens in this world without me in it, period. That's why rappers are rappers and that's why that's why models are models. We all have egos and it's really hard to kill the bitch. I've had at least ten ego dusts throughout my fucking like existence and it still comes back. It doesn't matter. You can have an ego death and be like a completely ego list for like what, six months tops? Eventually you're gonna have like the ego is is is imp important to survival, because I lost the word. I think implemental what was I gonna use? I was definitely a for syllable word. Either way, it is you need it. Like if you if you oh, you know, people might describe people, like being in like a in a sense of humility as like, oh, just completely without ego, but like at the end of the day, like, no, like your ego allows you to actually like compensate with the rest of the world, like, most people do not have no ego entirely, or at least for like, like a week after your acid tri or whatever, yeah, like, oh, had ego death and I completely. But like within I swear to God, like within six months time, like your ego has at least minimally like repaired itself. That's what an ego does, that's why you have it. You have it. It's a survival. It's it's a part of your consciousness that has to do with survival if you don't have your ego, like you're pretty much dead in the world, especially the way it is now. Anyway, this is that that's going to probably close up my spiel on that. Yeah, I'm upset because instead of like the first few moments of my waking moments being a healing, time, it is immediately going into disarray and chaos and anxiety. And so in in so I'm losing like, I don't I don't really care about oh, I mean, like I care about life in a sense, but I mean, like, and it in a mortal sense. I like, yes, it's taking years off of me. and I feel it like in the way that it's like, I I am slower to do regular things or like, whatever my rising thoughts, might be are completely just destroyed by this like what I've what I've come to perceive is like an evil force. It is evil in so many levels again this breaks down from like a higher consciousness to like a lower state of consciousness. The lower state of consciousness is saying that like these people are just idiots. They're idiots and they are not self aware of the fucking like pollution that they're doing on kind of middle sense, I'm like, oh, it's politics, it's like gentrification if these guys run around in circles, then people call up the fucking place, the place gets fucking more allocated funds to their fucking police officers, the police officers have fucking filling their quotas. It's all bureaucracy and paperwork and politics on that middle level and on the highest level it is like no, this is evil, it's pure evil because people are so grossed out by the fact that fucking New York is New York and also the wage and income and quality factor is that this guy is doing whatever the fuck he has to do brown. He's doing well, not that guy. that guy's that guy's a weak dick motherfucker. He has a small dick and everybody in the neighborhood knows it. He drives around and circle making people miserable. He also I'm it's the same dude. that same dude followed me to the Trader Joe's. It's the same dude, so I'm like, I like I know the sound of his bike from anything, so I definitely know when I'm at the Trader Joe's and then he's like all of a sudden traffic like, I'm like yo dude like why the fuck you following me to Trader Joe's like I live four miles away, which is not that far on the fucking motorcycle, but I came all the way over here on the subway for you to follow me on your bike. week, dick, bro.way, like, fuck this, fuck this, fuck that guy, fuck this neighborhood, fuck this place, fuck these politics, fuck these people. On a low frequency. Like on a low frequency, I'm like, fuck all this, like on a high frequency, I'm like, there's a purpose or whatever, it'll work, is temporary, blah, blah, blah. What the fuck was I saying? I don't know. I what the fuck was I ranting? I don't know. I that's that shiel, right? Trader Joe, hello Trader Joe. It's not safe. No, but you know, oh man, let's you say I, whatever. Let's just say oh, whatever. a lot. What else do we got? I don't know. I put on an album that came out today, yay, it's called all the rage. Actually, all that all that gripe about like, oh, it's an EP when I'm sure that the stores are gonna call it an album. I was like, I'm sure it's gonna be an album, so I just started calling it an album. like the release comes out and they're like, it's an EP, you congratulations. So I I thought I was putting out an album, that I was an EP, but it just missed the cutoff her album, because technically you can have a six track album and if it's over 30 minutes. If and you can have a six track album that's an EP like this, all the range is technically an EP at least according to Spotify's standards. And it's, I think it's like two and a half minutes under I think it's like 2 and a half minutes under, so it's an EP, but it's six tracks and I'm really excited about it. I kind of put a little bit more promotion into it than usual. I even had some press done, and that's great. because you can get pressed done. They're like,Yo, for $500. You'll be famous tomorrow. I'm like, that fucked up. That's a paycheck for some people. and that's not famous. also. They're charging people to be like spectacular. Well, they're charging they're like charging for people to be like popular, which is I think it's wrong, like ethically, you shouldn't be able to do that, like, oh, no, you're gonna get on all the playlists and whatever, you're gonna have like all like you should not be able to sell followers, like whether they're real people, which is slavery or they're robots, which is also slavery. Like you should not be able to sell fame that's making it like now I don't even trust like, okay, like this person got an award, but like, okay, because because the album was popular, because it was better than all the other ones. Or like, how do you know that you even heard all the albums because there are so many, and that like, okay, this person who put like zero dollars into promotion, how do you know that album wasn't better? because you didn't hear it? Because the person with a million dollar ad campaign won the fucking won the fucking award? Because you heard it because they put a million dollars into the fucking promotions. So it makes it makes everything the fact that everything is on a level system that's based on money is completely unfair. Like the all the industries are broken, it's not just music. Like, it's not just music. I'm like, holy shit, like you could spend like a year, an average year salary, which is what's the median income now. even with like no adjustment for inflation, like what, $50,000? Okay. So you could spend $50,000 on your your career so you'd have to you'd have to do that. That's even you're still competing with people who have a million dollars for doing nothing. That's insane. Anyway, I'm not bitter. What the fuck did I do earlier that I wasn't that literally the spirit that was like, don't be salty. I was like, oh, I was like,Yo, stop teaching models to fucking DJ, because I I happened on this girl that was like, yo, like I actually liked some of her music. I liked some of her music, but she wasn't doing much. And like everything was just fake. It was like super duper fake, but she was mad gorgeous and like more of these girls are popping up out of nowhere that are like not they're like models that are barely touching the decks and they're like a march. I'm like yo, dude, if that girl made this music like okay, maybe I should see her, but like, I'm like no somebody goes produce this because like she's moving badly in time to it and I realized something about being a producer is like yo if you spent enough time actually crafting this like this piece, you're not gonna move like badly to it like you're not going to move weird to music that you made because it's in you like it came from in your body. So like, I was like, I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at and I'm like, oh, I'm looking at propaganda. But then like, isn't that just kind of like discouraging people who don't have that type of body type or mindset, but it was funny because the algorithm was like don't be salty. It was like DJing is for everybody and if that's your passion and I'm like yeah, if that's your passion, but like, yo, when what where is the line between like propaganda and passion? Like, oh, I'm already a successful like, multimillionaire fashion model, but like I'm gonna be a DJ, like it washes out all the people who have actually like put in the work. It washes out all the people who have actually put in the work. Don't be salty. I was like fine, fine, but only because I like that algorithm. Only because I like that algorithm. I'm like fine, okay, we'll we'll be whatever. Whatever I've been reading. Oh, I read a book, let's see, let's see if I can remember the ones I already put back. I've been reading these uh this like children's book series on like famous people because I realized that they're written for children and I'm like, yo, dude, like somebody could read this whole series in the second grade and be smarter than me because I didn't know anything about the people that I'm reading about at all. And so they're like these little biographies. Well, I mean, they they're on a child's level. I don't know how long it would take a child to read, but they take me like an hour, hour and a half to read just like at a normal speed. And I read really fast. But I think the reason why from taking me so long to read them is because I actually take like a lot of I take a lot of like, I don't know, words or art to me, so if something is like especially musical, I might take it and be like that's a good song title. Like, if I think enough about this and what I know about this, like what kind of song is it? And, you know, just like little fun facts. Like first of all, I'm obsessed with George Lucas. I've never been a huge Star Wars person, just and I I realizing this. I've never been being on like Star Wars wicked. like, I've never been being on things that are like really, really big, but then I did grow up and kind of like a sheltered shut community where like most of the people like twilight, I wasn't hungerames, aylys Cyrus, well Hannah Montana at the time, okay? I just wasn't into those things, but most mostly because they're fans, actually, she just put out something that I kind of piqued my interest. It was in my fucking sl side bar. I was like, oh, no, what's this? I'm I might check it out. But I've been staying off the mainstream just cause I'm realizing like the reason that I'm seeing this is money and doesn't necessarily make it better or worse than anybody else. Because sometimes mainstream artists come out with crap and I think they do it on purpose, they're like,Yo, watch this. I can do whatever because so many millions of people love me, watch this. I'm like, damn. And then millions of people are like, yay, yes, yes, this. I'm like, the fuck? What did you do? And I'm pretty sure the mainstream artist is like consciously, even collectively like, you see what I'm saying? I can do whatever the fuck.c I did one thing cool, maybe like five things cool, like a long time ago, and literally don't have to do anything else. I just do this just to prove a poil. Like, I can shit on a track, literally. And millions of people will be like, I love you. I love you, please more of those. do it again. I'm like, oh, God, please, no. What the fuck? Millions of fans. Like once you have your fucking fan based unlock, like that's it. Like, you don't have to fucking people will be like, literally kissing at all of the ground that you touch for the rest of forever forever. That's it. I'm realizing that about fantom, so I'm like, yo, if you know what kitten mittens are. I'd still don't, but if you if you know kitten mittens, congrats, you're one of 12 people who actually like me. one of 12. I'm like 12 is enough. That's what Jesus had, right? might as well and Jesus technically have like 11 I don't know why I like that guy so much. I'm pretty much obsessed with him, too. I love Jesus. I'm like, Jesus is the god kind of I mean, like he's technically like three gods. anyway, why am I obsessed with uh George Lucas? First of all, he's one of the coolest people ever, Kate, like, okay, first he was a greaser, like a real greaser. like from the movie Grease, but like the actual thing before the movie Grease, cause if I if I'm not mistaken, he was like a greaser before they made Grease. That's crazy. Yeah, because Gre was like in the 70s, but it was about the 50s, right? I don't know. He was like an actual real life, like they just put Vaseline, I guess in their hair and wore like dirty shit and they were like, yeaheah, greaser. and they w and they fucking drove and they drove, what did they drive? I don't know, cars, old cars, and they would race them. I that was honestly I'm obsessed with this dude. I and now I kind of want to see Star Wars because I've never seen them. But honestly Star Wars is one of those things that, oh, that's what I was saying. God, yeah, well, yeah, I like grew up not liking Star Wars because all the people that liked it were mean. Like all those other things I named earlier in the episode. Like they're fans sucked, so I was like, I definitely cannot see myself getting into this. And so I never did, but now I'm well, as happy as I am being single. I save certain things for like just a case. I ever get in a relationship. I'm like Star Wars. I've never seen that. Like I saved certain things for like you know, like I wouldn't necessarily want to watch it by myself. I think I'd get geeked, though, now, now that I understand, like the kind of person that created Star Wars, I'm like, yo, dude, like he's the shit. Like, okay, first of all, okay, if I did the math, secondly, no, cause the first of all thing was like, he's a greaser. That's the coolest thing about George Lucas. Yeah. I mean, like I mean, like there was so many cool things. I had to take notes, I had to stop. I was like bending back pages, I was like, all this dude's the best. Okay. I was like,Yo, okay, whatever. Like, uh, oh, well, that was one of the last things I read. If I did the math right, this dude has like a 12 year old. He's older than my dad. My dad's pushing 80. I'm like, is he 80? He's like 80 with a 12 year old. That's incredible. That's I have so much respected admiration for that. Because it kind of proves my point that like if you're dude, you can just like keep on popping them out, popping them out. But he also like adopted kids, I think. Yeah, yeah. And he also like adopted kids. was at him? Yeah. Yo, I'm telling you there's so much practice into these little books. I'm like, okay, whatever, what else is cool. I don't know, he just seems he just seems like the dude just seems like the dude. I was likeYo. I I can't remember all the notes I took, but those those two things alone. I'm like, yeah, I earn my respect. I did write down a quote earlier that was like, what did he used to say? oh, do that again but better? I'm like, yeah, that sounds that sounds accurate. And then I liked the fact that like all his worlds within his worlds are like connected, so he'll leave Easter eggs within worlds of different Indiana Smith. He really liked the name Indiana because I guess he had a dog named Indiana, which was named after somebody else that was named Indiana. And I had no idea that Indiana Jones was like his brainchild or like close to it. I was like, whoa, this dudees are fucking legend, like a real like an actual, like this dude's a G for George Lucas. He's the best. I was like, yeah, dude. I could not put that book down. I was like sitting in cold bathtub water like, oh my God, this is such a pain turner. I gotta read about this dude until the very end of this book and I did. I would not put it down. I was like, George Lucas is the man, bro. like the man, I don't like like, yo, cool dude. I like that guy. I've never seen Star Wars. I have, I've seen like the beginning. It's like in the time, blah, fucking blah, blah, fucking talk. Yeah, and then I started writing my own movies, you know. It's not that any of them, you know, as whatever, you know, sometimes it's circumstance, sometimes sometimes I' just realize that I make excuses. Like I have no reason not to be as successful as any of these people that I'm reading about, because I'm finding personality traits about myself as I'm reading about them, like Albert Einstein Total Duis. He might have been like like functionally retarded. I'm pretty sure he was retarded, but also a genius. Like like, oh, okay, this is the coolest thing about Albert Einstein are we done inukas never, never. He's immortal, right? We'll see him at some point. He's so cool. He's so cool anyway. I was like, yeah, dude, this dude is cool. But there's that's the Alb Einstein, my man, okay, so like, slowly almost solely responsible for the invention of the Adamah. That's dope. On accident, though, because once he realized what had like once he realized that, okay, like, okay, I'm correct about this. For sure, I'm definitely correct about this, but like, yo okay, should we back up a little bit? First of all, he didn't say anything until he was like four. Didn't say anything, not a not a single word, his parents were like,o, something's wrong with him. Like even back in the day where it's like, uh don't know. Something's wrong with him. He's not saying anything. The doctors were like, he's perfectly fine.'s fine. And he didn't say anything his entire life until one day, apparently, he sat down to dinner with his parents and the soup was too hot, and that's what he said he's like the soup is too hot. Like, could you imagine, like having a kid that you're like 100% sure is retarded? Oops, nope, you can't say that. Okay, well, you could. Then so let's just shouldn't I just cancel you can't say that. Why, though? Like, okay, when I was growing up, you have to understand I come from a time where it was like you could just call that to somebody cause they were being dumb, but not dumb, right? But I mean like at a certain point, like, okay, technically Helen Keller was deaf dumb and blind, but like sometime and I'm assuming like between the 70s and 80s, it became a slang for like that's dumb. Like, don't do that because whatever you're doing is not right, which is like, okay if you're not right, then you're what? Retarded. Like, I'm sorry. I'm like some certain things are not going to be like, I'm, you know. I'm like early 2000s game or culture, that's gay, but I love gay. It's like nobody's being derogatory about that. I'm being derogatory about your behavior and I might even use it as like a positive you know what's what describing words or adjectives? I don't know. I'm going through. I'm going to processes realizing that like, okay, I'm at the age where certain information is gonna be offloaded. Certain like it's not coming back ever. Like, you like, I I know Spanish, but only if I have to speak it and it's not like, I'm not developing any other nothing else is like my brain is like, we don't need this, do we? I'm like, I don't know. Maybe I should hold on to that. No, no, we don't need this. I'm like, okay, well. there are certain things about me that are just not gonna change at this point. I'm not sorry, because honestly, weren't too offended at everything when, like, there're there are things that are offensive that nobody really is offended about. like, if you really found an offensive, it would not exist anymore, you know? Because when somebody becomes really passionate about something, and they change it. Which is why I'm taking my time. I like, youo, annihilation is imminent. Like this cannot be anymore. Like, you don't change my brain chemistry. Fuck that shit. my brain chemistry is perfect the way that it is. Like I'm almost sure that like the entire mental health industry will change based on ideals that are like blooming and other like in other what the fuck was I just saying exactly ideas that are already springing up in in small circles. like they'll, you know, be one day. Like that's just valid, like nothing's really wrong with you. something's wrong with the world. Like, why? Like, and what can we do to change that? It could be environmental completely. It could take somebody with like severe mental health issues, severe schizophrenia, severe bipolar disorder, severe fucking severe depression, severe anxiety and change their environmental factors or even just like change the fact that that like they're facing poverty, poverty is a mental illness and that's not what it's not looked at as such. It's looked at as a deficiency on the individual's part when it could be like and it could be a polethro of environmental factors. That'll change. It will in my lifetime. I know that it will. It may not be because of me because for the most part, I'm a pacifist. I really am. I'm a yoder, like, honestly, it has to be like visibly hurting someone else or hurting me painfully enough for me to be passionate about it to make it change. Like, I'm sorry, I'm not. I don't want I don't really want to be a leader, especially because like people are still like populating this planet. I don't necessarily I don't I don't wanna be like a a leader in anything because that is like that's too much power. Honestly, just let me play the music and then fuck off. And I will fuck off. Like if you think I talk too much or you find me annoying or you think I'm stupid like eventually I I disappear. That's it a self-reflective Go away, all right. I't have to be asked twice. I don't stay in places where I'm not welcome. So, New York it's been good. Are't not really. But somebody I thought okay, who else am I obsessed with? I love this new lady that I found. Her name is Gina something rather fucking amazing. I I love New York people because I love New York people. Like I really do. like it is well, it's hard to fucking there's a fucking oh, honestly, it could be simplified to this as like, okay, maybe this embraces like the new the New York feminine and what I really hate is the New York masculine, which is just toxic, just disgusting, like where I spinning on things, shut the fuck up, like, are you not self aware? Like it's it's certain level of and I'm not, I'm really not binary in the sense where it's like balanc, bro. like balance, like a little bit of everything is good and like half masculine, half feminine is like a good balance, non-binary embracing that. But like yo, dude, there's a certain rasculinity about the city that's the thing that makes it nasty. It was like, whoa. whoa. I'm like, that's nasty, but I was oh, okay, I'm in love with this person. Her name is like Gene or something rather. I'm still I still have like I no, I have no feet in the comedy pool cause like I realized I stopped performing comedy and I stopped writing it, and like all the like semi tragic possibility, like possibly hilarious situations that were happening to me when I was actively writing comedy just stopped. I was like good, I don't necessarily need to be in that right now. That's that has sailed and will probably later sink, but I don't want to be in there if like, okay, like you're funny, if like sad and bad shit happens to you all the time. I'm like, that's fucked up. I don't wanna be that guyc 50 years from now I could be that guy and like still not earn a penny more than I'm earning right now making music underground. So if it's if I had to choose between the two, I've already earned mastery in recording arts. 10,000 hours or more, like I don't necessarily like being a comic is like another ladder. It's another it's a thing. And honestly, when I stopped like, well, I mean, like I I took a break from tears of a clown because it became such a like passion project for me that I was like, oh, this is that I'm caring too much like I should stop. and still not finish and it's not it's not like, it never had a release date in mind, so it's not necessarily like what's it delayed? Yeah, it's not delayed, and it's not it's definitely not in hiatus, but like, I realized that I have a certain responsibility to my audience altogether. It like to do this show as well and so like this, there's been taking kind of a priority, knowing that like my hiatus has been longer than any other hiatus is, and that I owe it to like my homegrown audience and my weird coat following to like okay like I have to give you guys everything from fucking like November to now and just musically that's a lot but then I've also the writing has also accompanied it and so it would be a shame to just let that go entirely because I feel that like my actual, my actual fan base is here in this show, unfortunately, well, not unfortunately, because I've started to get like a sense of familiarity within the dance music scene, like, as a producer through this podcast as a medium, because when I started doing this podcast, like, it wasn't like people weren't generally like now people are doing like following my, what's it? format. Like people weren't really doing DJ mixes and like putting music on podcasts, like it just wasn't people weren't doing it. I was the only one doing it now everybody's doing it and it makes me want to do it less, but then also like I have to kind of show consistency with myself in order for me to feel like I'm still doing something. What was that rant about? I don't know. I'm obsessed with this lady name's Gina or something rather. She's super New York. What would she say? that I really liked? Oh, if you didn't know the rules before you got to New York, you you like if you came to New York and you're not having a good time, you probably didn't know the rules before you got here.rect. I didn't come here on purpose. This was my layover city. I came here by accident and I did not know the rules. Now I'm learning the rules and I'm like the rules are fucked up and rules are kind of meant to be broken if you're disturbing my peace, I will then disturb your peace. No, I will not. I do not believe an eye for an eye, and also I feel that you are dangerous people. I will then report you to the police and and make the proper documentation in order for it to stop. I'm a snitch. I don't give a fuck. Like if you're actually hurting me, like if you're changing my the way that I think and the way that I feel, like if you're making me sick inside of my own environment, like you deserve it. I'll give a fuck. I don't give a fuck. I don't give any kind of fuck. And then that way, I am a feminist, cause it's like, yo, dude, like how long are you gonna sit and take somebody hurting you before you actually realize that like you're not the problem they are and in order for their behavior to stop, you have to actually like you have to prevent this by stepping up for yourself. It's kind of like a show and like, okay, like like at a certain point it is kind of like a game. Like how long are you going to let me do this to you before you just fucking like get up and fucking hit me back? And I'm like, I don't want to like, I don't want to fight, but at the same time, like, bro, like I've been getting my ass whipped by these idiots and so I'm like, okay, I have to actually, but I'm still not a fighter. I have to do it in a way that makes sense and so that the community can be improved when I move on. Like I don't necessarily want to put somebody in the same place that I am now because I really am not I don't and just improve it. Like I believe so much in doing that, like not just leaving no trace, but like improving the place from which you are situated when you leave so that when the next person comes through, they don't have to struggle through the same hardship. So in that way, leadership, sure, be

House of David: Whose Side is God On?

Hoy escuchamos: Sapere Aude- Som primavera, Volbeat- By a monster´s hand, Stratovarius- Survive, Bridear- Still burning, Overdrivers- Kings of the road, Saurom- El mordisco de la serpiente, Mägo de Oz- Van a rodar cabezas, Jose Andrea y Uróboros- Ocaso, Canciones con Historia: Lamb of God- On the hook.Escuchar audio

General Theme for the Week: Important Insights About Sin Today's Lesson: What Sacrifices Teach us about God On this edition of One Single Story, Pastors Stephen Mizell and Jay Rivenbark discuss the following: What do these instructions teach us about God? He is worthy of precision. The importance of an occasion is reflected in the pump and ceremony, and through how much attention to detail we give to it. The holiness of God is reflected by how much importance was placed up on sacrificial rituals. The wages of sin is death. the holiness of God is also reflected in the cost of sin. When a man looked into the eyes of an innocent animal and slaughtered that animal, he received a vivid object lesson on the wages of sin. Romans 6:23 (NLT): For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord. The reading for the day is Leviticus 7.

A new MP3 sermon from Generations Radio is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Whose Side is God On? - China, Russia, America... Speaker: Kevin Swanson Broadcaster: Generations Radio Event: Radio Broadcast Date: 10/16/2024 Length: 28 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Generations Radio is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Whose Side is God On? - China, Russia, America... Speaker: Kevin Swanson Broadcaster: Generations Radio Event: Radio Broadcast Date: 10/16/2024 Length: 28 min.

The Greg and Dan Show highlights a moment of kindness shared with the world once a day, Monday - Friday, at 6:25 AM. Today's edition of Way To Go, Todd is titled: Don't Go, Don't Go Don't forget to spread some kindness!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

General Theme for the Week: A Picture of God's Patience Today's Lesson: The Touch of God On this edition of One Single Story, Pastors Stephen Mizell and Dylan Wilkin discuss the following questions: How is God's power and judgement suggested by the use of the phrase “the finger of God” throughout Scripture? Isaiah 53:4 (ESV): Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. What kind of hope does it give you to hear that only Jesus ever felt the full blow of God's wrath? The reading for the day is Exodus 11.

General Theme for the Week: Practical Principles for Dealing with Fear, Hurt, and Betrayal Today's Lesson: Hot Potato - Giving Our Hurt to God On this edition of One Single Story, Pastors Stephen Mizell and Wendy Korbusieski discuss the following questions: How do we throw our betrayals and hurts onto God? What are the actions suggested by this very psalm that accomplish that? Why do people hold on to their “hot potatoes”? The reading for the day is Psalm 55:19b-23 .

Obadiah: Whose Side is God On? |  Major Lessons from the Minor Prophets  | Sam Holm, Lead Pastor | Preached 6-9-24 10:45am   Tag: Minor Prophets, Old Testament, Summer, Israel, Kingdom, Foretellers, Doodles, Sketch, Drawing, Basketball, Side, Pride, Humility, Humiliation, Petra, Rocks, Cleft, Humble, Edom, Easu

Obadiah: Whose Side is God On? |  Major Lessons from the Minor Prophets  | Sam Holm, Lead Pastor | Preached 6-9-24 10:45am   Tag: Minor Prophets, Old Testament, Summer, Israel, Kingdom, Foretellers, Doodles, Sketch, Drawing, Basketball, Side, Pride, Humility, Humiliation, Petra, Rocks, Cleft, Humble, Edom, Easu

Prayer: Communion with God: On the night before the cross, who did Jesus pray for? Jesus prayed for his disciples and those who would believe in him through their message. In other words, if you are a Christian, Jesus prayed for you! What did he pray for? Jesus prayed that we would experience true joy in a relationship with God and real unity with one another. Recorded on Mar 17, 2024, on John 17 by Ted Selker. Finding Life in Jesus' Name is a sermon series on the gospel according to John in the Bible. Have you ever felt unsatisfied with your life? Or, even when things were going well, something was still missing? Many people sense there must be something more. But what?? John, one of the closest friends of Jesus, believed that Jesus came into the world so that we may have life and have it to the full. Jesus turned John's life upside down, and John claims this new life — marked by God's power, presence, and purpose — is available for all who believe.

Track list DJ Q - Glasgow's jazz (Derrick Carter Remix Moodyman- Freeki Mutha F_cker (Forrest Edit) Politics Of Dancing - Sebo K Sweely - Security DJ Love - Underground Funk James Andrew - Lambrini Bob Boris Dlugosch - Keep Pushin' Disco Blu - Disco Blue Fast Eddie - Let's Go (Don't you want some more) Bump + Flex - Long Time Coming (Nu Birth Gone Down Dub) Washerman - Basement Chord DJ Safeword - Consent (Pepes black leather leash edit) Kolter - Listen Up (Bass keeps bumpin) Furz - Intergalactic Conexion Mista E - Don't Believe The Hype Jamie Jones - The Capsule Seven Davis JR - P.A.R.T.Y Kolter - Systematic Felon5 - Pixie Dust LVCA & Marlon - The Dukes Nuke Jason Nevins - Alright, Alright A.D.A.M. - Memories And Dreams (Ti.Pi.Cal Dub Remix) Gallegos - Ultimate Damage Joel HDZ - Diggin At The Hospital Housey Doingz - Belly Wobbler Dennis Quin - Naminus The Trip - For The Record Charonne - Initiating Program Wodda - Lightning The Trip - A Bit Spooky Wooka - To Relax BMW - Music (Archie Hamilton Remix) Nathan Inman - Rewinddd Job De Jong - Sounds Of The Universe Freight Train - Got To Have It Big Bird - Flav Sounds Of Blackness - The Pressure House Neegroz - All Night Long

Why God Informed Shepherds Luke 2:8-20 JESUS SAID “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives his life for the sheep. John 10: 11 (NIRv) John 10: 14-16 John 1:29 John 10: 27-30 Sheep Responsibilities: Listen and Follow the shepherd John 10: 27-30 Shepherd's (Jesus) Assurance: Guaranteed Eternal Life Luke 1:34-35 NLT ✓ The Holy Spirit came upon her; the power of the Most High overshadowed her ✓ The Holy Spirit, God the Father (the Most High), the Son of God present at Mary's conception and during pregnancy ✓ Jesus was conceived and born holy; He came for the greatest rescue mission –salvation of sinners ✓ He lived holy –no sin in him (2 Cor 5:21, 1 Peter 2:22, 1 John 3:5, Hebrews 4:15) ✓ Jesus, the perfect Son of God is the sole, all sufficient sacrifice for sin Luke 2:1-5 ✓ God decreed 700 years earlier that the Messiah will be born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2) • Every other person (Ceaser Augustus, Quirinius, Joseph) and event (census) were instruments in the hand of God ✓ God's words will always be fulfilled; it is best to obey God's words and not to fight it • What/Who are the heavenly “things” that informed the shepherds about Jesus' birth? ✓ An angel ✓ The Lord's glory ✓ Multitude of the heavenly army of angels(host) ✓ Brought good news about the Saviour, Christ the Lord birth; gave instruction on where and how to find him. John 1:5 Jewish people had the Glory of God -On and Off-, and finally, Off • On -Moses Tabernacle Dedication (Exodus 40:34-35; Lev 9:22-24); Solomon Temple Dedication (2 Chronicle 7:1-3), Off with repeated sin ✓ God's glory returned and tabernacled on earth when Jesus was born in Bethlehem 14Andthe Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:14 ➢ Lessons from the heavenly visit to the shepherds ✓ The Goodness of God ✓ Despised, outcasts, and rejected shepherds were first to receive the news of Jesus' birth ✓ The Nearness of God ✓ The presence of God was closer than the shepherds knew ✓ The Love of God • God gave the perfect gift that the world needed-a Person who will rescue us from sin ✓ The Faithfulness of God Some Prominent Shepherds in the Old Testament ✓ Abel, a shepherd who laid down his life ✓ Abraham,a shepherd who left home to obey God ✓ Issac, a shepherd who laid down his life in obedience to his father ✓ Jacob,a shepherd who got himself a bride while away from home ✓ Moses,a prince, became a shepherd and delivered Israel from bondage in Egypt ✓ Moses slaughtered some lambs; Israel had an exodus from Egypt ✓ Jesus gave his own blood; believers have an exodus from the power of Satan, and the kingdom of darkness. into the kingdom ofGod ✓ David, a shepherd who brought victory to Israel ✓ Saul has slain his 1000, Davids his 10000s ✓ Jesus Christ, the shepherd is gathering his flock -One Shepherd, One Flock ✓ The Good Shepherd died for the sheep John 10: 14-16 ✓ The Great Shepherd lives for the sheep, gathering and building his flock Hebrews 13:20-21 ✓ The Chief Shepherd is coming to take his sheep home 1 Peter 5:1-5 John 10: 27-30

“I never quit.”-Robert McKenzie Born to birth parents who put you up for adoption, in foster care for over a year, and you're adopted family, after one year, your adopted mother leaves you to be raised by an alcoholic father and a grandmother. Not the start to one's life that would lead you to believe success is in your future, but God… On this week's show, Robert McKenzie talks about his journey of abandonment, reconciliation, second chances, brokenness, and redemption, and how God used working in oil fields, 23 years in the military, competitive powerlifting, and coffee shops to be ministered to, and to minister to other people. Much of the trajectory of Robert's life changed on a simple invitation from a neighborhood family age 13. The moral of the story: Don't quit, it's never too late for God.

Martin Powell - Listening the Voice of God - On this episode Martin shares the miraculous ways that God speaks to him on his business, on his music career, being able to minister to friends and business clients.  Martin encourages us to be sensitive to the voice of God as He leads us through different paths in this life.#MakeMoney #ListenToGod #Silver #Gold 

Dr. Michael Wolfe will start out by explaining the origin of the term “Nature's God”, which appears in the Declaration of Independence. This concept, that God and Nature are indistinguishable, […] The post Nature's God: On the Beauty and Wonder of the Natural World appeared first on KKFI.

Today in Wesley's DBR podcast, it's all about managing expectations. “God On the Mountain. 1Kings 19:9-18 See the DBR video here: YouTube IGTV

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli