Podcasts about hollywood celebrities

Find my Dilbert 2025 Calendar at: https://dilbert.com/ God's Debris: The Complete Works, Amazon https://tinyurl.com/GodsDebrisCompleteWorks Find my "extra" content on Locals: https://ScottAdams.Locals.com Content: Politics, Predictive Models, Approved Human Use Drugs, Ivermectin, X Advertising Revenue, AI "Crazy Eyes" ID, Luis Elizondo UAP, US National Correction, Dumb Generals, Lawfare, Hollywood Celebrities, Political Money Laundering, DEI, Don Lemon, Rachel Zegler, Jack Smith, Trump Biden Meeting, Senator Thune, AG Matt Gaetz, WSJ Editorial Board, DOJ Lawfare, Recess Appointments, Pete Hegseth, Tulsi Gabbard, Marco Rubio, 2025 Inauguration Security Concern, Bill Pulte HUD, Kevin Shipp, MLK Assassination, Scott Adams ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you would like to enjoy this same content plus bonus content from Scott Adams, including micro-lessons on lots of useful topics to build your talent stack, please see scottadams.locals.com for full access to that secret treasure. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/scott-adams00/support

Dodgers, Hollywood Celebrities and angry Japanese workers all have something in common... they are in today’s headline volley.  You’ll find out why, on the Chris and Joe Show.

President Biden and Donald Trump had starkly contrasting campaign events this past weekend. On today's episode of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution's Politically Georgia podcast, Host Bill Nigut and special co-host Tamar Hallerman look at the weekend campaign events of Joe Biden and Donald Trump. In Detroit, Trump courts Black voters by falsely accusing Biden of being the main force behind the 1994 crime bill and claimed Biden pushed the “super predator” measure aimed at Black crime. President Biden was in Los Angeles, where he attended a fundraiser where he was praised by some of the biggest names in Hollywood as well as former President Barack Obama.  Meg Kinnard, national politics reporter, AP, Chuck Williams, WRBL Columbus, reporter, Georgia State University professor Tammy Greer join in on the conversation.     Then, a look at Georgia congressional GOP runoffs that will be decided in tomorrow's election.   Former Trump administration official Brian Jack squares off against state senator Mike Dugan for the open seat in the 3rd congressional district; and Chuck Hand, convicted of a misdemeanor criminal action, is facing Wayne Johnson for the GOP nomination in the 2nd congressional district.     Plus, Tamar and Bill look at reaction from Georgia elected officials to the Supreme Court's ruling overturning the trump-era ban on bump stocks for guns.        Links to today's topics  Trump courts Black voters in Detroit  Biden raises millions in glittery Hollywood fundraiser  Trump-backed Brian Jack faces Senator Mike Dugan in GOP runoff  Jan.6 rioter in 2nd district GOP congressional runoff   SCOTUS overturns ban on bump stocks     Listen and subscribe to our podcast for free at Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can also tell your smart speaker to “play Politically Georgia podcast.”      Credits  Executive Producer- Shane Backler  Producer- Natalie Mendenhall  Engineer- Matt McWilliams  Editor- Matt Owen  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Watch episode 27 of That Supernatural Talk as Apostle Daniel Adams and cohosts expose the dangers of Hollywood and how celebrities are being brought into the light of Christ and need to repent! Watch this powerful episode now and make sure to like, share, and subscribe and become a member of our podcast! #hollywood #celebrity #exposed -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Join this channel to get access to perks:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3cOiDCvy_u-umCdXXiQayQ/joinBecome A Forerunner: www.thesupernaturallife.org/joinWant to support our podcast and all that God is doing with TSNL? Click the links below! https://www.buzzsprout.com/2279432/supportSupport the Show.To Join This Global Movement Become A Forerunner Today!To Receive Deliverance Go To Our Deliverance Map and Find a Certified Forerunner Near You!https://www.thesupernaturallife.org/To support our Podcast click here: https://www.buzzsprout.com/2279432/supportBecome a member on our YouTube channel to get access to exclusive behind the scenes footage and much more:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3cOiDCvy_u-umCdXXiQayQ/join

INTERESTING FACTS ON AFRICAN CULTURE In Part 2 of this Episode, we are joined by Actor Eman Kellam as we discuss his rise to fame from Pranking his African Dad to now hosting red carpets with Hollywood Celebrities. We also discuss how African culture has impacted his success whilst touching on the Interesting Facts about African Culture we may not know about. As always, please comment below with your thoughts and don't forget to Like, Share And Subscribe

In Part 1 of this Episode, we are joined by Actor Eman Kellam as we discuss his rise to fame from Pranking his African Dad to now hosting red carpets with Hollywood Celebrities. We also discuss a dilemma around a mother son relationship which has broken down due to Health Complications and promises unkept. As always, please comment below with your thoughts and don't forget to Like, Share And Subscribe

Ascension Farro, a reclusive alchemist hailing from the far away crystalline caves of Avallia, returns to the Valley In The Kingdom of Acenscia once Per Revolutionary Orbit, to relay to The Ascended Mastery his findings, Astral Readings, Predictions from the Outer Realms, and Oracles from Beyond Infinity, In The Greater Unknown. He is thought to be the most powerful Wizard in this, and perhaps even of the outer realms; which caters to his illusive habits, and social dissertation–however, he remains friendly with C'esme't, as she sometimes visits the caves of Avallia, en route to certain tasks or journeys in the outer realms, often bearing fruits or other rarities as gifts, merely in exchange for his time–which she deems to be precious, allotting to the differences in their respective perceptions of the construct itself. Petrutheio approaches Gían ferociously, in irritation after being bombarded with numerous visions Why is it, lately, that you are constantly in my mind's eye? Perhaps it's that you've become quite fond of me— Perhaps it's with whom you've been spending your time. —and ‘with whom' might that be? With my wife! Yet to be… If you truly were wise, you'd depart from this realm immediately, in order to best preserve your life. Is that a threat? Look me in my eyes. Should I adjust my distance or my height? Look at me. I see you. Mark my words: Oh, but–I haven't a pen to write them— Then store them carefully in your memory-- What? I'm listening. C'esme't is my one and only Queen; She has by Prophecy, been bonded and betrothed to me. Are you reiterating the Prophecy to yourself, or relaying it to me? Let me state this more clearly-- With ‘clarity', you mean; You should leave— Why so urgently? Both urgently and immediately, actually. Is that a suggestion? For now, maybe. Are you implying you would remove me forcefully from this Kingdom, otherwise? Huh. [A silent tension.] You will see. [He leaves calmly.] C'ESME'T. Stop bothering me. What are these devastating lucidities you've dared to dream? Is it daring? You're my Queen. I'm a lady, not a possession. (grimaces) What's a ‘lady' [A bold look.] C'esme't. What of Persephone? She's no more than nothing. So, ‘nothing', then? No more than it. ___ SIR JYRE! MY LIEGE! Where is C'esme't!? I don't know… Don't lie to me! Why not? It's fun. Is banishment fun? Mine, or yours? Where is she!? [a slight gasp/beat] …my dear nephew— —we're not related— —not by blood… Where is C'esme't? [he pauses for a moment, before turning away to pour a drink.] You should sit. I'm fine, thanks. Drink? [Petruthieo pauses for a moment, reflecting on the previous night's happenings.] I don't drink. Maybe you should. Where's my Queen? —Is she yours? I'll have you exiled. No you won't. I won't? [sir jyre turns to produce a small golden charm, which swings, sparking at the end of a golden chain. Without hesitation, Petrutheo is immediately familiar.] Where's she gone? You'll either sit, or you'll drink if you really want to know. Petrutheo sits, flushed and defeated. I'll tell you— What is it? I am under strict confidentiality enforcements. How exactly strict She'll kill me—-and you. Gían comes running into the room, flustered. Where is she?! —and him. What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Ascension Farro, a reclusive alchemist hailing from the far away crystalline caves of Avallia, returns to the Valley In The Kingdom of Acenscia once Per Revolutionary Orbit, to relay to The Ascended Mastery his findings, Astral Readings, Predictions from the Outer Realms, and Oracles from Beyond Infinity, In The Greater Unknown. He is thought to be the most powerful Wizard in this, and perhaps even of the outer realms; which caters to his illusive habits, and social dissertation–however, he remains friendly with C'esme't, as she sometimes visits the caves of Avallia, en route to certain tasks or journeys in the outer realms, often bearing fruits or other rarities as gifts, merely in exchange for his time–which she deems to be precious, allotting to the differences in their respective perceptions of the construct itself. Petrutheio approaches Gían ferociously, in irritation after being bombarded with numerous visions Why is it, lately, that you are constantly in my mind's eye? Perhaps it's that you've become quite fond of me— Perhaps it's with whom you've been spending your time. —and ‘with whom' might that be? With my wife! Yet to be… If you truly were wise, you'd depart from this realm immediately, in order to best preserve your life. Is that a threat? Look me in my eyes. Should I adjust my distance or my height? Look at me. I see you. Mark my words: Oh, but–I haven't a pen to write them— Then store them carefully in your memory-- What? I'm listening. C'esme't is my one and only Queen; She has by Prophecy, been bonded and betrothed to me. Are you reiterating the Prophecy to yourself, or relaying it to me? Let me state this more clearly-- With ‘clarity', you mean; You should leave— Why so urgently? Both urgently and immediately, actually. Is that a suggestion? For now, maybe. Are you implying you would remove me forcefully from this Kingdom, otherwise? Huh. [A silent tension.] You will see. [He leaves calmly.] C'ESME'T. Stop bothering me. What are these devastating lucidities you've dared to dream? Is it daring? You're my Queen. I'm a lady, not a possession. (grimaces) What's a ‘lady' [A bold look.] C'esme't. What of Persephone? She's no more than nothing. So, ‘nothing', then? No more than it. ___ SIR JYRE! MY LIEGE! Where is C'esme't!? I don't know… Don't lie to me! Why not? It's fun. Is banishment fun? Mine, or yours? Where is she!? [a slight gasp/beat] …my dear nephew— —we're not related— —not by blood… Where is C'esme't? [he pauses for a moment, before turning away to pour a drink.] You should sit. I'm fine, thanks. Drink? [Petruthieo pauses for a moment, reflecting on the previous night's happenings.] I don't drink. Maybe you should. Where's my Queen? —Is she yours? I'll have you exiled. No you won't. I won't? [sir jyre turns to produce a small golden charm, which swings, sparking at the end of a golden chain. Without hesitation, Petrutheo is immediately familiar.] Where's she gone? You'll either sit, or you'll drink if you really want to know. Petrutheo sits, flushed and defeated. I'll tell you— What is it? I am under strict confidentiality enforcements. How exactly strict She'll kill me—-and you. Gían comes running into the room, flustered. Where is she?! —and him. What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Ascension Farro, a reclusive alchemist hailing from the far away crystalline caves of Avallia, returns to the Valley In The Kingdom of Acenscia once Per Revolutionary Orbit, to relay to The Ascended Mastery his findings, Astral Readings, Predictions from the Outer Realms, and Oracles from Beyond Infinity, In The Greater Unknown. He is thought to be the most powerful Wizard in this, and perhaps even of the outer realms; which caters to his illusive habits, and social dissertation–however, he remains friendly with C'esme't, as she sometimes visits the caves of Avallia, en route to certain tasks or journeys in the outer realms, often bearing fruits or other rarities as gifts, merely in exchange for his time–which she deems to be precious, allotting to the differences in their respective perceptions of the construct itself. Petrutheio approaches Gían ferociously, in irritation after being bombarded with numerous visions Why is it, lately, that you are constantly in my mind's eye? Perhaps it's that you've become quite fond of me— Perhaps it's with whom you've been spending your time. —and ‘with whom' might that be? With my wife! Yet to be… If you truly were wise, you'd depart from this realm immediately, in order to best preserve your life. Is that a threat? Look me in my eyes. Should I adjust my distance or my height? Look at me. I see you. Mark my words: Oh, but–I haven't a pen to write them— Then store them carefully in your memory-- What? I'm listening. C'esme't is my one and only Queen; She has by Prophecy, been bonded and betrothed to me. Are you reiterating the Prophecy to yourself, or relaying it to me? Let me state this more clearly-- With ‘clarity', you mean; You should leave— Why so urgently? Both urgently and immediately, actually. Is that a suggestion? For now, maybe. Are you implying you would remove me forcefully from this Kingdom, otherwise? Huh. [A silent tension.] You will see. [He leaves calmly.] C'ESME'T. Stop bothering me. What are these devastating lucidities you've dared to dream? Is it daring? You're my Queen. I'm a lady, not a possession. (grimaces) What's a ‘lady' [A bold look.] C'esme't. What of Persephone? She's no more than nothing. So, ‘nothing', then? No more than it. ___ SIR JYRE! MY LIEGE! Where is C'esme't!? I don't know… Don't lie to me! Why not? It's fun. Is banishment fun? Mine, or yours? Where is she!? [a slight gasp/beat] …my dear nephew— —we're not related— —not by blood… Where is C'esme't? [he pauses for a moment, before turning away to pour a drink.] You should sit. I'm fine, thanks. Drink? [Petruthieo pauses for a moment, reflecting on the previous night's happenings.] I don't drink. Maybe you should. Where's my Queen? —Is she yours? I'll have you exiled. No you won't. I won't? [sir jyre turns to produce a small golden charm, which swings, sparking at the end of a golden chain. Without hesitation, Petrutheo is immediately familiar.] Where's she gone? You'll either sit, or you'll drink if you really want to know. Petrutheo sits, flushed and defeated. I'll tell you— What is it? I am under strict confidentiality enforcements. How exactly strict She'll kill me—-and you. Gían comes running into the room, flustered. Where is she?! —and him. What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Ascension Farro, a reclusive alchemist hailing from the far away crystalline caves of Avallia, returns to the Valley In The Kingdom of Acenscia once Per Revolutionary Orbit, to relay to The Ascended Mastery his findings, Astral Readings, Predictions from the Outer Realms, and Oracles from Beyond Infinity, In The Greater Unknown. He is thought to be the most powerful Wizard in this, and perhaps even of the outer realms; which caters to his illusive habits, and social dissertation–however, he remains friendly with C'esme't, as she sometimes visits the caves of Avallia, en route to certain tasks or journeys in the outer realms, often bearing fruits or other rarities as gifts, merely in exchange for his time–which she deems to be precious, allotting to the differences in their respective perceptions of the construct itself. Petrutheio approaches Gían ferociously, in irritation after being bombarded with numerous visions Why is it, lately, that you are constantly in my mind's eye? Perhaps it's that you've become quite fond of me— Perhaps it's with whom you've been spending your time. —and ‘with whom' might that be? With my wife! Yet to be… If you truly were wise, you'd depart from this realm immediately, in order to best preserve your life. Is that a threat? Look me in my eyes. Should I adjust my distance or my height? Look at me. I see you. Mark my words: Oh, but–I haven't a pen to write them— Then store them carefully in your memory-- What? I'm listening. C'esme't is my one and only Queen; She has by Prophecy, been bonded and betrothed to me. Are you reiterating the Prophecy to yourself, or relaying it to me? Let me state this more clearly-- With ‘clarity', you mean; You should leave— Why so urgently? Both urgently and immediately, actually. Is that a suggestion? For now, maybe. Are you implying you would remove me forcefully from this Kingdom, otherwise? Huh. [A silent tension.] You will see. [He leaves calmly.] C'ESME'T. Stop bothering me. What are these devastating lucidities you've dared to dream? Is it daring? You're my Queen. I'm a lady, not a possession. (grimaces) What's a ‘lady' [A bold look.] C'esme't. What of Persephone? She's no more than nothing. So, ‘nothing', then? No more than it. ___ SIR JYRE! MY LIEGE! Where is C'esme't!? I don't know… Don't lie to me! Why not? It's fun. Is banishment fun? Mine, or yours? Where is she!? [a slight gasp/beat] …my dear nephew— —we're not related— —not by blood… Where is C'esme't? [he pauses for a moment, before turning away to pour a drink.] You should sit. I'm fine, thanks. Drink? [Petruthieo pauses for a moment, reflecting on the previous night's happenings.] I don't drink. Maybe you should. Where's my Queen? —Is she yours? I'll have you exiled. No you won't. I won't? [sir jyre turns to produce a small golden charm, which swings, sparking at the end of a golden chain. Without hesitation, Petrutheo is immediately familiar.] Where's she gone? You'll either sit, or you'll drink if you really want to know. Petrutheo sits, flushed and defeated. I'll tell you— What is it? I am under strict confidentiality enforcements. How exactly strict She'll kill me—-and you. Gían comes running into the room, flustered. Where is she?! —and him. What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Ascension Farro, a reclusive alchemist hailing from the far away crystalline caves of Avallia, returns to the Valley In The Kingdom of Acenscia once Per Revolutionary Orbit, to relay to The Ascended Mastery his findings, Astral Readings, Predictions from the Outer Realms, and Oracles from Beyond Infinity, In The Greater Unknown. He is thought to be the most powerful Wizard in this, and perhaps even of the outer realms; which caters to his illusive habits, and social dissertation–however, he remains friendly with C'esme't, as she sometimes visits the caves of Avallia, en route to certain tasks or journeys in the outer realms, often bearing fruits or other rarities as gifts, merely in exchange for his time–which she deems to be precious, allotting to the differences in their respective perceptions of the construct itself. Petrutheio approaches Gían ferociously, in irritation after being bombarded with numerous visions Why is it, lately, that you are constantly in my mind's eye? Perhaps it's that you've become quite fond of me— Perhaps it's with whom you've been spending your time. —and ‘with whom' might that be? With my wife! Yet to be… If you truly were wise, you'd depart from this realm immediately, in order to best preserve your life. Is that a threat? Look me in my eyes. Should I adjust my distance or my height? Look at me. I see you. Mark my words: Oh, but–I haven't a pen to write them— Then store them carefully in your memory-- What? I'm listening. C'esme't is my one and only Queen; She has by Prophecy, been bonded and betrothed to me. Are you reiterating the Prophecy to yourself, or relaying it to me? Let me state this more clearly-- With ‘clarity', you mean; You should leave— Why so urgently? Both urgently and immediately, actually. Is that a suggestion? For now, maybe. Are you implying you would remove me forcefully from this Kingdom, otherwise? Huh. [A silent tension.] You will see. [He leaves calmly.] C'ESME'T. Stop bothering me. What are these devastating lucidities you've dared to dream? Is it daring? You're my Queen. I'm a lady, not a possession. (grimaces) What's a ‘lady' [A bold look.] C'esme't. What of Persephone? She's no more than nothing. So, ‘nothing', then? No more than it. ___ SIR JYRE! MY LIEGE! Where is C'esme't!? I don't know… Don't lie to me! Why not? It's fun. Is banishment fun? Mine, or yours? Where is she!? [a slight gasp/beat] …my dear nephew— —we're not related— —not by blood… Where is C'esme't? [he pauses for a moment, before turning away to pour a drink.] You should sit. I'm fine, thanks. Drink? [Petruthieo pauses for a moment, reflecting on the previous night's happenings.] I don't drink. Maybe you should. Where's my Queen? —Is she yours? I'll have you exiled. No you won't. I won't? [sir jyre turns to produce a small golden charm, which swings, sparking at the end of a golden chain. Without hesitation, Petrutheo is immediately familiar.] Where's she gone? You'll either sit, or you'll drink if you really want to know. Petrutheo sits, flushed and defeated. I'll tell you— What is it? I am under strict confidentiality enforcements. How exactly strict She'll kill me—-and you. Gían comes running into the room, flustered. Where is she?! —and him. What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

John Petrelli has been a professional fitness coach for over 30 years, having worked alongside some of the biggest names in the entertainment industry ( close friend to famous comedian Sebastian Maniscalco), from Grammy-Award-winning recording artists to A-list Hollywood actors. Not bad when you consider at eighteen John seemed bound for jail or the morgue. In 2021, John's life took an unexpected turn when he became paralyzed with Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS), a rare autoimmune disease that landed him in the ICU.With a lifestyle so heavily dependent on physical health and wellbeing, John needed to rely on his mental strength to overcome this disease. Through this experience John penned his first book "Confessions of a Hollywood Trainer". An instant Amazon #1 New release. In 2024 John released the second book in the "Confessions of a Hollywood Trainer series -  "Teen Edition”  John, inspired by the challenges he has faced, has dedicated his new lease on life, to helping others discover their inner strength and overcome obstacles in their lives.   #drdanamzallag, #drdanpodcast, #Happinessjourneywithdrdan, #ddanmotivation, #inspiringinterviews, #drdancbt, #drdantherapy, #drdancoaching, #drdanhappiness,   --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/happinessjourney/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/happinessjourney/support

Both Bradley Cooper and Sylvester Stallone renewed their connections to the city of Brotherly Love in separate weekend appearances. The scenes were an uplifting contrast to a season of heartache and pain throughout the city in 2023.

Ein paar Kilos zu verlieren, ganz ohne Sport oder Diät – das klingt für viele Menschen sehr verlockend. Möglich wird es mit einer neuen Abnehmspritze, die nicht nur unter Hollywood-Celebrities immer beliebter wird. Doch der Einsatz dieses Medikaments ist nicht unproblematisch. Nicht zuletzt, weil auch gefährliche Fälschungen im Umlauf sind. Im Podcast erklärt STANDARD-Gesundheitsredakteurin Pia Kruckenhauser, was wir über diese Abnehmspritze wissen müssen und welche Schattenseiten sie hat. **Hat Ihnen dieser Podcast gefallen?** Mit einem STANDARD-Abonnement können Sie unsere Arbeit unterstützen und mithelfen, Journalismus mit Haltung auch in Zukunft sicherzustellen. Alle Infos und Angebote gibt es hier: [abo.derstandard.at](https://abo.derstandard.at/?ref=Podcast&utm_source=derstandard&utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=podcast&utm_content=podcast)

On today's edition of Clear Picture Financial with Jason Noble he explores some of Hollywood Celebrities financial disasters and details lessons learned.  In addition he dives into different areas of planning and how these tips can benefit you and your financial planning journey. Reach out to Jason and his team at 843-743-2926 or  https://pciacharleston.com/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Steal the strategies of these 5 business-savvy celebrities to grow your business. Kipp and Kieran dive into how 5 marketing-minded celebrities have grown their business (and how you can too). Learn more on why Taylor Swift is an amazing content marketer, the power of understanding your audience, how to create your own flywheel of distribution, the importance of owned media, and marketing with an emotional connection. We're on Social Media! Follow us for everyday marketing wisdom straight to your feed YouTube: ​​https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCGtXqPiNV8YC0GMUzY-EUFg  Twitter: https://twitter.com/matgpod  TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@matgpod  Thank you for tuning into Marketing Against The Grain! Don't forget to hit subscribe and follow us on Apple Podcasts (so you never miss an episode)! https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/marketing-against-the-grain/id1616700934   If you love this show, please leave us a 5-Star Review https://link.chtbl.com/h9_sjBKH and share your favorite episodes with friends. We really appreciate your support. Host Links: Kipp Bodnar, https://twitter.com/kippbodnar   Kieran Flanagan, https://twitter.com/searchbrat  ‘Marketing Against The Grain' is a HubSpot Original Podcast // Brought to you by The HubSpot Podcast Network // Produced by Darren Clarke.

Since his first credit as a stunt performer in 1990 in the sci-fi epic “Total Recall,” Jesse V. Johnson has amassed over fifty credits related to stunt performance and coordination, and is now putting the finishing touches on his 27 th film as a director, “One Ranger,” distributed by Lionsgate and available in streaming and in theaters on May 5. That's nearly four score films in three decade, including working with legendary directors like from Tim Burton to Terence Malick to Steven Spielberg, and on the set for recent classics like “Hell or High Water,” “The Amazing Spider-Man,” “Lincoln,” “Thor,” “Avatar,” “Mission: Impossible III,” “Galaxy Quest,” “The Thin Red Line,” and “Starship Troopers.” Join Robert Manni, author of The Guys' Guy's Guide To Love as we discuss life, love and the pursuit of happiness. Subscribe to Guy's Guy Radio on YouTube, iTunes and wherever you get your podcasts! Buy The Guys' Guy's Guide to Love now!

Since his first credit as a stunt performer in 1990 in the sci-fi epic “Total Recall,” Jesse V. Johnson has amassed over fifty credits related to stunt performance and coordination, and is now putting the finishing touches on his 27 th film as a director, “One Ranger,” distributed by Lionsgate and available in streaming and in theaters on May 5. That's nearly four score films in three decade, including working with legendary directors like from Tim Burton to Terence Malick to Steven Spielberg, and on the set for recent classics like “Hell or High Water,” “The Amazing Spider-Man,” “Lincoln,” “Thor,” “Avatar,” “Mission: Impossible III,” “Galaxy Quest,” “The Thin Red Line,” and “Starship Troopers.” Join Robert Manni, author of The Guys' Guy's Guide To Love as we discuss life, love and the pursuit of happiness. Subscribe to Guy's Guy Radio on YouTube, iTunes and wherever you get your podcasts! Buy The Guys' Guy's Guide to Love now!

As his latest tour wraps up, Elton John said that he has no plans to perform again in the United States due to the country's “growing swell of anger and homophobia.” Specifically, he pointed to the ‘anti-Gooming', and ‘anti-trans surgery for children' legislation that has been enacted across the country. Furthermore, Elton John is not alone in this criticism. That's because, 264 Hollywood Celebrities just co-signed a letter to the CEOs of several big-tech social media companies, urging them to censor viewpoints contrary to the trans-agenda ⭕️ Sign up for our NEWSLETTER and stay in touch

What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

In the first episode of season three, Helen is joined by actress, comedian and host of the Dying of Laughter podcast, Chelsea London Lloyd. She tells us the extremes she's gone to to meet her favourite celebrity and discusses his and her facial hair. She shares the weirdest audition she's had and Helen and Chelsea speak on the creepiest jobs they have done. They also talk about loss and grief, plus Chelsea shares great goal setting advice for creatives.Follow Chelsea on IG @_chelswhoelse_Watch her parody music video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yi-_Dgx3FZ8Dying of Laughter podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/dying-of-laughter/id1493572524 

I discuss in the first chapter of my book (Can You Please Talk To My Trauma) what I learned from the rich and famous people I had relationships with. I quickly learned that they weren't happy and why this was the case. The ego makes us feel like whatever we achieve isn't enough. The present spiritual moment is enough, where true happiness resides. How do we get more of that. The joy really is in the journey. The destination is not the happiness. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/karlee-holden/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/karlee-holden/support

There are a million books and speakers out there telling you how to succeed, but have you ever given yourself permission to succeed? That's what my expert asked me that had me speechless. Why would I not permit myself to succeed. Surely all the information out there must just be a scam because we can't all be in our own way... Right? Welcome to the Just Dumb Enough Podcast. A show that acknowledges no one is always an expert, by dispelling misconceptions with real experts. I'm your host as always Colton Petry. My guest today is Noah St John. Noah is known as "The Father of Afformations" and "Mental Health Coach to the Stars"! He's developed and refined his process over the last nearly three decades, helping Hollywood Celebrities, Professional Athletes, Millionaire CEOs, and people just like you and me. His goal is to help us all reclaim hours in our days, days in our months, and weeks in our years. Quite literally giving us an extension on our lives. And on top of all that he was a genuinely nice and fun person to chat with. ( NoahStJohn.com ) The next episode is officially episode 99! It's crazy to think I'm already there. I'm going to try something special for all of you. In the mean time, if you're an expert in anything at all and want to share, email DumbEnoughPodcast@Gmail.Com or send me a message on any of the social media pages! For now, Let's get out of our own way and succeed in 2023 and beyond! Do you feel more informed having listened to this episode of the Just Dumb Enough Podcast? If so, please take a brief moment to rate the show five stars on iTunes, Spotify, or Audible.  If you really liked it, remember to subscribe for more episodes and check out the nearly one hundred episode backlog I've built up. Let me know what you'd like to hear by reaching out and emailing me: DumbEnoughPodcast@Gmail.Com or send a message on any of the show pages on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or wherever else. I am always looking for new topics, guest ideas, and questions from the audience. New Year and New Month, so time to start the January rankings. I'll say now that there has been a major shake up: 1. Australia! and this is wild, because as long as I've been a show the United States has always been top downloaded, but not right now. Australia is led to the top by New South Wales. 2. The United States. Weird as it is to see it here, it is currently led by top states Florida and Washington. 3. The United Kingdom. 4. Mexico. What is happening? 5. Germany. Finally working their way back to the top 5 and led by Niedersachsen. That's it for today. I'll see you all Thursday!

What was the last thing you put on your skin? Did you know that it entered your bloodstream in less than 30 seconds? Deborah Grimnes and her daughter, Juliana, developed a healthy skincare collection made from clean, natural ingredients aimed at healing and nourishing the skin that is safe and effective for people of all ages. Their collection is called Give-A-Derm, and was inspired after Deborah was given a damaging cancer-preventative treatment from her dermatologist that triggered negative physical reactions to the toxins in her environment. Deborah eliminated the chemicals she used on her skin and dove head-first into developing this one-of-a-kind, non-GMO skincare collection which is made from a proprietary blend of turmeric, pineapple, exotic mushrooms, French green clay, saffron, and even raw honey. This is one of the best skincare lines on the market!   TAKEAWAYS Toxic, cancer-causing chemicals lurk in nearly every popular beauty product and are extremely harmful to the endocrine system It took ten years of working with a formulator and going through endless beta-testing to perfect the Give-A-Derm collection The FDA recently approved a facial treatment that disgustingly includes infant foreskins as the primary ingredient Go to GiveADerm.com and enter discount code TINA at checkout to save 10% off your order  

In Our Season Finale, Mr. No Cap, Willie P, Malik and newcomer Miss Britt, have a sit-down interview with the multifaceted entertainer and entrepreneur, Dwann B. In this wide-ranging interview, we address the role of Black Celebrities in our society and the current Reparations Movement. Dwann gives his take on the infamous “Is There A War Against Black Men” Fox Soul interview with Dr. Umar Johnson and the “controversial” Dave Chapelle monologue on SNL....Funny outtakes included at the end! Tune In!  Thank you for tuning in this season! See You Next Year!! ;-)    Follow Dwann B on IG @DwannB   Organization: Blackmennetwork.net Mailbag: whatblackmenlike@gmail.com   Follow us on IG: @whatblackmenlike

In a world of WOKE Hollywood celebrities, be Keanu Reeves! Here's why! We Are The Number 1 Conservative Sports News Entity In The USA on YOUTUBE! Make Sure You Subscribe on Podcast & YouTube! Make Sure You Subscribe on Podcast! Available on Google Podcast, Spotify, Castbox, Apple Podcasts (ITunes): https://anchor.fm/blackandwhitesports Become a Paid Subscriber: https://anchor.fm/blackandwhitesports/subscribe The podcast is all about the world of sports news, sports reactions, and the games. Website: www.blackandwhitenetwork.com Get your MERCH here: https://teespring.com/stores/blackandwhitesports Use Promo Code "USAFIRST" for 25% off any of the merch! After Pay Now Available! --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/blackandwhitenetwork/support

This week we are joined by Tess Talley to talk about hunting in Africa,  promoting Hunting to young girls to get them interested in our sport and Bullying not only by Anti-Hunters and PETA but by fellow hunters. Tess discusses the infamous Giraffe Hunt that got the attacks so bad that even Hollywood Celebrities publicly wished her harm.  She also discusses the benifits to local tribes that these hunts can provide. To follow Tess Talley:https://www.facebook.com/TESSTALLEYOFFICIALhttps://www.tesstalley.com/Join our Face Group Page just for our Podcast Listeners:https://www.facebook.com/groups/448812356525413To learn more about American Roots Outdoors:https://americanrootsoutdoors.com/https://www.facebook.com/AmericanRootsOutdoors/To follow Alex Rutledge:https://www.facebook.com/americanrootsalex/To follow Wayne Lach:https://www.facebook.com/wayne.lach.5To follow Mike Crase:https://www.facebook.com/mike.crase

Tom Hanks, John Cleese, Cindy Crawford, Jason Bieber, and Shaquille O'Neal use and recommend the All33 backstrong work chair for spinal health. Along with over 33,934 people who have set their goals in motion. To freedom through movement.

SUPER WOKE Hollywood celebrities DEMAND DEFUNDING of Canada Gas Pipeline!

Guest: Michelle Sorro @MichelleSorro Host: Rashod Davenport of SUAVV Magazine @SUAVVmagazine Michelle Sorro, former TV Retail Host turned 7-figure Transformational Trainer and CEO of Michelle Sorro, Inc. She's the founder of Live Sales Mastery, Liberated Leadership, and co-founder of the Podcast Accelerator. Her trainings have generated $20+ million for her clients, from emerging experts to established entrepreneurs, Hollywood Celebrities, Pro Athletes, and a US Presidential Candidate. Michelle is the host of the Fire & Soul Podcast, a top pod in self-development, and on a mission to empower millions to awaken to their infinite potential. To inquire about Michelle's Podcast Accelerator program, CLICK HERE! --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/suavv/message

Glenn Marsden is the Founder of the one of Australia's most Publicised Initiatives, the ‘Imperfectly Perfect Campaign'. He is also a highly sought after Mentor for Entrepreneurs, and one of Australia's most influential and empowering Public Speakers. He is the humble success behind ‘Imperfectly Perfect' which gained Global Recognition within 12 months and has seen over 450+ of the worlds most Influential Public Figures get behind him from the worlds most respected Thought Leaders to Hollywood Celebrities, Professional Athletes, Corporate Leaders and Medical Professionals all on board to challenge the culture and narrative around Mental Health. He has been featured over 150+ International Publications, Networks and stages, scaled his work into an International Organisation establishing leading workshops, and awareness programs for a global community. After 100 episodes on the show, this episode we turn the tables and got Glenn in the hot seat to take us back and share the story behind the story. We hear about how losing a friend to suicide and having dealt with Body Dysmorphia Struggles in his past, it forged a passion in him like no other to go out in to the world and try to challenge these conversations around Mental Health. Boy, has he done it. We delve deeper to hear about what it has taken him over the past three years, his journey, the lessons, the set-backs, the sacrifices, the gratitude for people resonating and getting behind his vision and his plans for 2022 and beyond. To find out more information on Glenn, you can find him across his socials at: @_glennmarsden / glennmarsden.com To find out more about the Imperfectly Perfect Campaign, our Global Efforts and to find out how you can get involved, simply head to our official website at imperfectlyperfectcampaign.org Thank you to our voice-over: Mike Christensen (thevoicemonkey.com) The Imperfectly Perfect Campaign is creating awareness and not a substitute for professional advice. Should you need help, please refer to your nearest crisis numbers.

Hollywood Celebrities as clients , psychics and the guy I blocked 5 times 

On this episode of the NTEB Prophecy News Podcast, we are starting to see that adverse reactions and 'rare side effects' to the COVID-19 mRNA vaccine are really not so rare after all, in fact, they are quite commonplace and happening every day. The CDC VAERS web site told you this was happening, even while the CDC disavowed its own data colleting efforts. As of January 28th, 1,088,588 deaths and adverse reactions have been reported to the VAERS site, Harvard Medical says that's under-reported by at least a factor of 10 and possible a factor of 40, so you do the math. But you don't need the VAERS site to show you that, just look at all the double vaxxed and boosted celebrities dropping dead and passing out for no apparent reason. Today on the Prophecy News Podcast, we told you this would happen, it's happening now, and we show it all to you in glorious technicolor. Betty White was the picture of health, vaccinated, and confidently awaiting her 100th birthday that never came. Comedian Bob Saget was double vaxxed and boosted, and out touring the nation with his new comedy act until he died in his bed. Comedian Heather McDonald was cracking jokes on stage like "'I'm vaxxed, double vaxxed, boosted ... and flu shot, and shingle shot, and haven't gotten COVID and Jesus loves me most,' before falling unconscious to the floor. Can anyone explain this to me?

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YouTube star and former "Vlog Squad" member Big Nik says he witnessed Hollywood celebrities actually sell their souls when he was big into Hollywood and Todd White says that Jesus became a God hating, Satan worshipping child molester on the cross. The Truth About Satanic Cults https://tinyurl.com/j5ashz8f 

Raw and unedited audio from the Live Youtube show. Join us Live every Friday at 7:30 pm EST on youtube! https://www.youtube.com/user/AnimeAmericaPodcast

Listen to find out how Hollywood Celebrities ended the pandemic. Then Annie and the crew react to Joy Reid response to the Gabby Petito story, it may surprise you. Finally, Brad makes a mistake, and the Biden Admin responds to negative headlines. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Non-invasive aesthetic treatments are at an all-time high and treatments for crow's feet and wrinkles offer many advantages to patients. In this latest interview with Aesthetic Insider™ Radio, Dr. Shweta Agarwal, a triple board certified aesthetic medical doctor who practices at Mia La Maven Medical Spa located in the heart of Santa Monica, CA, has a reputation for her scientifically based rapid facial wrinkle reduction technique that can quickly transform a patient by helping make them look much more youthful. As an aesthetic medical doctor with a strong following of patients ranging from Hollywood Celebrities, aspiring entrepreneurs and people who want to be the best version of themselves, Dr. Agarwal knows that anti-aging and aesthetic beauty treatments are not performed as a one-size-fits-all solution, and her expertise with reducing facial wrinkles is based on a combination of products designed to relax areas of the face that cause wrinkles.To learn more about the aesthetic beauty and anti-aging procedures offered by Dr. Shweta Agarwal and her team at Mia La Maven Medical Spa, visit www.mialamavenmedspa.com or call 310 314-0404.

On our 100th episode, we have 2 power house women that will teach you how to Captivate and Cash in!Cindy Ashton, Presentation Strategist, is the Award-Winning TV host and Producer of Cindy Uncorked, Speaker, Singer/Actor and Author of Liberate Your Voice. Drawing from her extensive background working with Broadway Professionals, Emmy Winners, and Hollywood Celebrities, she is a master at showing her clients how to increase their sales, connection, and influence. She has received awards from President Obama and Queen Elizabeth II for her lifetime of volunteerism. Her expertise in presentation skills, speaking voice, body language, messaging, content delivery, storytelling and leadership presence has been featured in multiple media, including ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, Inc. Magazine and Forbes.Christina Daves is a PR Strategist, Inventor, Speaker, Best Selling Author & On-Air Expert. Christina, together with her clients, has over 1 billion views and generated over $100 million in sales from free publicity. She is a DIY-PR Strategist, is the best-selling author of, PR for Anyone™ - 100+ Affordable Ways to Easily Create Buzz for Your Business, and the #1 best-selling book, The DIY Guide to FREE Publicity that shares her journey of landing exposure for a product she invented, www.HealInStyle.com. Cindy has personally appeared in over 1,000 local and national media outlets and is a regular contributor on Good Morning Washington.WEBSITE: https://www.captivateandcashin.comRaise up your public profile! Get in touch with Cindy Ashton and Christina Daves by scheduling an introductory chat.FREE Gift: Visibility Blueprint: 3 Steps to Maximize Your Visibility, Grow Your Impact and Increase Your IncomeDownload the blueprint and be an A-Lister in your industry!>> https://www.captivateandcashin.com/blueprint Check out these books by Cindy Ashton and Christina Daves:Liberate Your Voice, Volume 1: How To Trust Your Power In A World That Shuts You Down>> https://www.amazon.com/Liberate-Your-Voice-Trust-Power/dp/B088N96CGN/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=cindy+ashton&qid=1626193452&sr=8-1The DIY Guide to FREE Publicity: 100+ Things You Can Do to Get Media Coverage for Your Business Now>> https://www.amazon.com/DIY-Guide-FREE-Publicity-Coverage/dp/1734053828/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=christina+daves&qid=1626193471&sr=8-2PR for Anyone: 100+ Affordable Ways to Easily Create Buzz for Your Business>> https://www.amazon.com/PR-Anyone-Affordable-Easily-Business/dp/1630470333/ref=sr_1_4?dchild=1&keywords=christina+daves&qid=1626193488&sr=8-4 See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

In this episode, Majeed is joined by Cindy Ashton, presentation strategist, keynote speaker, singer, award-winning TV host of Cindy Uncorked on e360tv, and author of Liberate Your Voice: How to Trust Your Power in a World that Shuts You Down. Drawing from her extensive background working with Broadway Professionals, Emmy Winners, and Hollywood Celebrities, she is a master at showing her clients how to increase their sales, connection, and influence through the power of rapport building storytelling. She has received awards from President Obama and Queen Elizabeth II for her lifetime of volunteerism. Her expertise in presentation skills, speaking voice, body language, messaging, content delivery, storytelling and leadership presence has been featured in multiple media, including ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, Inc. Magazine and Forbes.    Also In this episode: The speaking business has changed Content Strategy - Tik Tok Land free media opportunities - Functional Medicine Doctors - strategy to get more clients with public speaking Have a strong point of view It has to be about the audience Measuring impact  Dig deep with questions Majeed's favourite question to ask Meeting Planners Cindy's next big offering  

Today's episode is the exact keynote speech that Jim Kwik gave at our Easier Life Online Event.  Jim is the world's leading authority in memory and retention.  He has taught Hollywood Celebrities, Heads of State, and Business Icons like Elon Musk, Warren Buffet and Steve Jobs how to read faster, remember more and optimize the speed of learning. You are going to love his talk. If you want to take advantage of the crazy offer that Jim gave us at the end of his talk, check it out here: https://kwikbrain.com/easier-life-special Get More Involved: Leave a 5 Star Review 7 Subscribe On iTunes: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/authority-factor/id1516170809 Free Roadmap To Building A 7-Figure Coaching Business: https://www.AuthorityFactor.info Access All My Stuff: https://www.KenDunn.com Book Me To Speak: https://www.KenDunn.com Subscribe on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/kendunnauthorityfactor

Part 1: After the world proclaims "Never Again" there is not only a rise in anti-Semitism across major cities around the world, it is also becoming fashionable with some Hollywood Celebrities out rightly supporting the Hamas. Part 2: Tamara Interview with Rachel who has made Aliya and lives in Israel after growing up in the US. Rachel considers herself a progressive Zionist and shares her views on the rise in Anti-Semitism and current conflict with Palestinians.

(English) In this spectacular interactive Hollywood event, shown live to a global audience on Supreme Master Television, an exceptional gathering of scientists, politicians, media, Hollywood producers, and interfaith leaders joined together with a star-studded line-up of speakers that included: international author Howard Lyman, natural medical and nutritional specialists, Dr. Gabriel Cousens and Dr. Will Tuttle, to discuss the rarely broached relationship between climate change and our everyday food choices. ...

Jay Dyer author, comedian and TV presenter he is the author of two books, Esoteric Hollywood 1 & 2 and the co-creator and co-host of the television show Hollywood Decoded. Jay is a wealth of information and a truly brilliant mind, it was an honor to have him on the show. I asked him about how he got involved in this research, and from there we got into the good stuff! If you're interested in the Nexus Point between Hollywood, Espionage, Occult Orders, The Military, Organized Crime and Governments, then sit down for this one. Be sure to support Jay Dyer and help him continue this stellar research, because there is always more to uncover

Jay Dyer author, comedian and TV presenter he is the author of two books, Esoteric Hollywood 1 & 2 and the co-creator and co-host of the television show Hollywood Decoded. Jay is a wealth of information and a truly brilliant mind, it was an honor to have him on the show. I asked him about how he got involved in this research, and from there we dove headfirst into the rabbit hole! If you're interested in the Nexus Point between Hollywood, Espionage, Occult Orders, The Military, Organized Crime and Governments, then strap in for this one. Be sure to support Jay Dyer and help him continue this stellar research, because there is always more to uncover. Find More Jay Dyer HereFor Exclusive My Family Thinks I'm Crazy Content:https://www.Patreon.com/mftic for the Video Version of this episode and much more bonus content.@myfamilythinksimcrazy on Instagram, Follow, Subscribe, Rate, and Review we appreciate you!https://www.myfamilythinksimcrazy.comIntro Song by Destiny LabInterlude Song Credit to;Artist: Jason ShawSong: GoNotGentlyRedux★ Support this podcast on Patreon ★

This week I am talking to Tracie austin about her book 'I Survived Beyond and Back: True Accounts of Near-Death Experiences From Those Who Have Glimpsed the Afterlife'. I Survived Beyond and Back takes you on a journey of firsthand Near-Death Experiences as reported by those who experienced them. Time and time again, people have asked these questions with curiosity - What really happens when we die? What lies on the other side? Is death the end? To the experiencer, near-death experiences are profoundly meaningful but are frequently met with skepticism. "At that moment, Tommy remembered thinking to himself, Wow. I just died." "As Amy continued floating upwards, it became clear to her that she was now entering some dark tunnel and noticed a brilliant bright white light at the end of it. The intensity of the light cast beams on each side of it, and Amy estimated the length of the tunnel to be approximately a quarter of a mile long." "Miguel's attention was suddenly drawn upwards to where he could see the presence of an angel hovering above with its wings outstretched and in full flight!" Journey with us as we explore Glimpses of the Afterlife; The Science of Dying; NDEs vs. OBEs; The Physician Who Tried to Weigh the Soul; and my radio interview with Dr. Laurin Bellg, M.D., who talks about her role as a board-certified critical care physician and ICU director for two busy intensive care units whose patients confided with her about their personal near-death experiences while in the ICU. Read about near-death experiences of the Hollywood Celebrities! BIO Having completed various studies at Cauldon College of Further Ed. in 1984, Tracie re-located to London a year later to study at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama as a concert pianist, and to teach her instrument in a number of schools. Her interest in UFOs first began there, when she witnessed a UFO, an event that would later change her life! In 1989, Tracie moved back to her hometown of Staffordshire to teach her instrument to numerous students, and became Project Manager of a popular music tuition agency. Her second daylight sighting of an unknown flying object occurred in May of 1996. A profound sighting of a black, boomerang object that changed shape was observed by other witnesses, and made a second appearance later that day over her house! The Television channel “BBC Digital” became aware of her sighting, and during the making of their TV documentary “Over the Moon”, Tracie told her story and re-enacted her sighting. It was in June of 1996, that she hosted her first UFO conference, which became a major success. Radio appearances followed, as well as articles in local newspapers and invitations to speak on the subject at various organizations. A second conference followed in 1998.Research into the UFO phenomena has been an on-going process since her first sighting in 1987, and she has investigated some highly strange UFO activity. Personal sightings of UFOs continue to date. Tracie was invited as MC, and a guest speaker at the 2005 annual MUFON symposium in Denver.She was also Mistress of Ceremonies and speaker at the first women's UFO Symposium in Glen Rose, Texas 2012. She is author of Welcome to Haunted Las Vegas, Nevada, which details true ghost accounts in the Silver State as researched and documented by LVSSI – Las Vegas Society of Supernatural Investigations. Her second book – Alien Encounters in the Western United States was also published by Schiffer and details nine true alien abduction accounts, which features photographs of suspected alien implants that were surgically removed by Dr. Roger Leir, as well as wonderful artwork depicting various alien beings that have been encountered. Her latest book - I Survived Beyond and Back details true accounts of Near-Death experiences as reported by those who have glimpsed the afterlife. Tracie was the Executive Producer and Host of her own cable TV talk show originally produced in Ca...

Woke Hollywood is at it again. Candace Owens brings attention to tweets where Chrissy Teigen tells a 15 year old to end her own life. As it turns out, this isn't the first time she has told people to kill themselves. Today, I'm going to dive into how the media is making Chrissy into a hero and ignoring her vile behavior. Why would brands and celebrities continue to support this type of behavior? I'm also going to talk about the crumble of Hollywood Celebrities as ratings continue to fall and people lose interest. Get woke, go broke.Thank you to everyone who continues to show love and support. God Bless!- Instagram: AmandaEnsing- Youtube.com/AmandaEnsing- Telegram: https://t.me/amandaensing- MakeMakeupGreatAgain.comSupport the show (https://makemakeupgreatagain.com/collections/all)

Resident Fitness Enthusiast Liezel van der Westhuizen, tried a new fitness workout that is the equivalent of doing 20 000 sit-ups, or squats. It's a favorite amongst celebs such as Carmen Electra, Drew Barrymore, and Jenny McCarthy, and you can get in on it too! Tune in to find out more. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In episode 73 of the American Reveille Podcast, we remember the amazing Rush Limbaugh (1951-2021) and then reveal all of the filthy celebrities who literally celebrated his death. These creatures do not deserve our respect or attention; they deserve our disgust, disdain, and disownment. They already live in mental hell as it is. God Bless El Rushbaugh, now let's trash talk these lefties!SUPPORT US:Donate - http://ow.ly/9ckY50DA5c2VIDEO:YouTube - http://ow.ly/enQk50DA5bnRumble - http://ow.ly/BVx550DA573Odysee - http://ow.ly/utOG50DA571AUDIO:Apple Podcasts - http://ow.ly/Nlsw50zvkUTSpotify - http://ow.ly/gOON50zPya7SOCIAL:Gab - http://ow.ly/w3kq50DA56ZInstagram - http://ow.ly/BN7h50DA56YMinds - http://ow.ly/Y6bO50DA572Parlor - http://ow.ly/QNma50AwfEgAR Website - http://ow.ly/eO3g50DA5bo

Born ready to die and fighting for her health every day since, Cindy Ashton understands the preciousness of life. With her maxim of ‘If I’m still breathing, I’m not done!’, Cindy is on a lifelong mission for social justice and healing in the world. What is important to her is that you give your voice permission in alignment with your truth. However, if you wish to change the world, first, you will need to liberate your voice.   KEY TAKEAWAY “Don't let anybody take away your brilliance. Just don’t!” BOOK RECOMMENDATION* Liberate Your Voice, Volume 1: How To Trust Your Power In A World That Shuts You Down by Cindy Ashton - https://amzn.to/2KPnhWY ABOUT CINDY ASHTON Cindy Ashton is a presentation trainer, keynote speaker, singer, award-winning TV host of Cindy Uncorked, and author of Liberate Your Voice: How to Trust Your Power in a World that Shuts You Down. Drawing from her background working with Broadway Professionals, Emmy Winners, and Hollywood Celebrities, she is a master at showing her clients how to increase their sales, connection, and influence through the power of rapport building storytelling. Cindy has received awards from President Obama and Queen Elizabeth II for her lifetime of volunteerism and has been featured in multiple media, including ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, Inc. Magazine and Forbes.   CONNECT WITH CINDY cindyashtontrains.com cindyashton.com Video Series on Presentation & Presence Tactics to Build Connection and Trust:cindyashtontrains.com/videoseries instagram.com/cindyashtonofficial facebook.com/cindyashtonofficial twitter.com/cindyashton youtube.com/cindyashton linkedin.com/in/cindyashton Cindy Uncorked Body Shaming Episode - https://www.facebook.com/CindyAshtonOfficial/videos/312003343109456     ABOUT THE HOST - AMY ROWLINSON Amy is a Life Purpose Coach, iTunes #1 Podcaster, Speaker, Mastermind Host and Property Investor. Through coaching and workshops, Amy works with businesses to Focus on WHY to create people-centred environments, by improving productivity and employee engagement by focusing on fulfilment, values and purpose.   Amy inspires and empowers entrepreneurial clients to discover the life they dream of by assisting them to make it their reality through their own action taking. Helping them to focus on their WHY with clarity uniting their passion and purpose with a plan to create the life they truly desire.   If you would like Amy to help you focus on your WHY then please book a free 20 min call via www.calendly.com/amyrowlinson/enquirycall    Please sign up for the weekly Friday Focus newsletter at https://www.amyrowlinson.com/subscribe-to-weekly-newsletter     CONNECT WITH AMY Clubhouse @amyrowlinson https://www.instagram.com/focusonwhy/  https://www.instagram.com/amy.rowlinson/ https://www.facebook.com/RowlinsonAmy/ https://www.facebook.com/focusonwhy/ https://www.facebook.com/groups/focusonwhy/ https://www.linkedin.com/in/amyrowlinson/   HOSTED BY: Amy Rowlinson   DISCLAIMER The views, thoughts and opinions expressed in this podcast belong solely to the host and guest speakers. Please conduct your own due diligence. *As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.  

From your loving Host and Best-Selling Author Dr. Afshan HashmiCheers and Enjoy!You can sponsor an episode of my docuseriesshow.Please contact me via email:afshan@drafshanhashmi.comDr.Afshan Hashmiwww.afshanhashmi.comwww.drafshanhashmi.comhttp//:www.drafshanhashmisradio.comDr. Afshan Hashmi's Radio & TV Show is broadcast live Wednesdays at 6PM ET.Dr. Afshan Hashmi's TV Show is viewed on Talk 4 TV (www.talk4tv.com).Dr. Afshan Hashmi's Radio Show is broadcast on W4WNRadio - Women 4 Women Network (www.w4wn.com) part of Talk 4 Radio (www.talk4radio.com) on the Talk 4 Media Network (www.talk4media.com). The podcast is also available on Talk 4 Podcasting (www.talk4podcasting.com).

Money Talk ep.1 In this episode Isaiah sits down with John Truman Wolfe a best-selling author and the editor/publisher of the Strategic Financial Intelligence monthly newsletter, dealing with investing, the economy, and politics. He has been a senior credit officer for two California banks and is a co-founder of the Los Angeles-based business management company, Wiseman & Burke, Inc., where he oversaw the business and financial affairs of some of the biggest names in Hollywood. Now retired from Wiseman & Burke, Inc., John currently devotes his time to writing and speaking. John Truman Wolfe is the pen name of Bruce Wiseman.John delves into Investing in Decentralized Crypto currency, Precious Metals, Lithium, & tells us how to do it safely. John also talks about his time as a Business manager to Hollywood Celebrities.John Truman Wolfe books - https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/1076025.John_Truman_Wolfe Check out Our Money Talk Shirts & all our other Merch - https://www.mogulminds.net/product-page/men-s-champion-money-talk-long-sleeve-shirt?sort=name_ascending

Presenting to you … the 18th episode of the Story Impact Show! In this episode, I speak to Vikas about how he helps his clients gain clarity on their purpose, how he became a wisdom coach, and the THREE elements of wisdom in today’s world! I enjoyed recording this interview with Vikas because he really shared great pointers on the importance of wisdom in today’s fast-changing world! Vikas Malkani has been called the 'World's #1 Wisdom Coach', 'Top Wisdom & Wealth Guru' and the 'Steve Jobs of Wisdom'. Vikas has coached Business Tycoons, CEO's, Award-Winning Entrepreneurs, Hollywood Celebrities and Royalty to grow their Life, Business and Wealth. He is also a TEDx Speaker and a coach who trains individuals and companies with breakthrough wisdom to get maximum results with minimum effort. Check out his TEDx talk right here

In this episode I interview Jamir Angelo, master funnel builder from the Philippines. During the interview he discusses his experiences working with Hollywood celebrities and the importance of setting up advanced automation for follow-up.

ELIAD is a new take on the famous Reddit slogan ELI5... in this segment, we break down L.A. Neighborhoods, the entertainment industry, celebrity sightings, and why you should consider going to college in L.A. The Judgmental Map of LA is available here: https://judgmentalmaps.com/post/78473663186/losangeles Follow us on Instagram at instagram.com/worstpod We're now on Stitcher! Listen at: https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/worst-pod

They guys take a "wing it" approach with no headlines or outline, providing a more conversational style to the episode. With no sports on the horizon, Mike talks about pro-athlete's contracts and asks how they'll be paid with no revenue being made. Luke shares his theory on why Hollywood celebrities are all progressives. Trump's declaration of school choice as "the civil rights issue of our time" gets the guys talking about their experience in private school compared to public school. Luke defends the conservative christian worldview against the secular progressive worldview as the one more tested and tried. With the cries for removing statues and mounuments growing louder, the guys discus the slippery slope and hypocrisy of "cancel culture." In WHATCHA' READING?, Mike shares his takeaways from TORTURED FOR CHRIST, by Richard Wurmbrand and Luke summarizes his reading from 7 MEN, by Eric Metaxas.

Legendary comedian Tom Dreesen joins Lenny and Neil on the 4CPodcast to promote his new book Still Standing..my journey from Streets and Saloons to the Stage and Sinatra, and we discuss his 4C's: From Harvey Illinois to Showbiz, Sinatra, Letterman and Carson, and Hollywood Celebrities. 

PLUS: Paul Folger from KSTP-TV joins us for a COVID-19 update AND if you're a celeb, don't post pictures if your out and about: Madonna, we're looking at you.

Hundreds of Hollywood stalwarts were given to James Lipton, an actor-turned-drama-school-dean to open up regarding their life and art and became an unexpected star.

(English) Juan Carlos Simo is the most successful Personal Trainer and Strength Coach in the Caribbean. He has worked with Hollywood Celebrities and Baseball Mega Stars such as Jean Segura and Robinson Cano. After teaching a 5day Training Camp together in Santo Domingo Juan Carlos and Wolfgang sat down to talk about the time in the Dominican, the now-famous Simo Diet, JC's studies in Functional Medicine, his approach on Biomechanics and Functional Bodybuilding, how legendary IFBB Bodybuilder and Coach Milos Sarcev stayed with and work for Juan Carlos for almost a year, the gruel truth of Giant Sets Training as well as the unique setup of his Human Performance Center.

The worlds most dangerous podcast in the land hosted by your pastor Michael Smith and co hosted by your brotha lamick isreal --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/illuminatiexposed/message

Partying til dawn with some of my favorite Hollywood Celebrities.

Mancow and Woody reminisce about all of the classic Hollywood celebrities that he has worked with. Was Moe Howard a mean guy? Who wore the pants John or Yoko? Was Brian Wilson from The Beach Boys a lunatic? Abba killed a parrot and Jerry Lewis was a jerk. Was Groucho Marx abused? Katherine Hepburn, Abbot and Costello, Lucille Ball and many more!!!

Travel writer Susan Montgomery discusses her recent visit to Palm Springs and how it offers a unique, fascinating culture that includes Hollywood Celebrities, Mid-Century Modernism, Native American Heritage, Design Excellence, Elegant Shopping, Art Galleries and more. Read her story here: https://nationalparktraveling.com/listing/palm-springs-offers-a-unique-fascinating-culture/Featured music is “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Noa Levy.

Join Nancy J. Reid and Lisa D. Smith, the mother-daughter travel team and publishers of Big Blend Radio & TV Magazine and Parks & Travel Magazine, for Big Blend Radio’s 2nd Friday IFWTWA Vacation Station Food, Wine & Travel Show, streaming live from Florence, Colorado. ON THIS EPISODE: - Cultural Palm Springs- Travel writer Susan Montgomery discusses her recent visit to Palm Springs and how it offers a unique, fascinating culture that includes Hollywood Celebrities, Mid-Century Modernism, Native American Heritage, Design Excellence, Elegant Shopping, Art Galleries and more. Susan is the publisher of Life-Uncorked.com and is a board member of the International Food Wine & Travel Writers Association (IFWTWA). - Are You a Difficult Diner - Sarah H. Elliston, author of “Lessons from a Difficult Person: How To Deal With People Like Us,” shares advice on how to not be a difficult diner. Featured music is “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Noa Levy, and “Adobe Café” by Wally Lawder.  

Welcome back to the Bone Zone Unbelievers! In our pilot episode, "Alien Love Fest" we covered several people who claimed to have had sexual experiences with extra-terrestrials... but even that isn't as strange as some of the stories coming from another corner of the paranormal world...In this episode were talking Spectrophelia, and people who claim to have had sexual experiences with GHOSTS! It's gonna' be a Phantom Phuck Phest! What famous Hollywood Celebrities have fornicated with Ghosts? How much does it cost to buy a Phantom Lover on eBay? AND What happens when you get impregnanted by a ghost?!Once you go ghost you never go back! So Tune in now, to the program, where you CONTINUE to LEARN to UNLEARN... EVERYTHING YOU KNOW!Host: Rus RyanCo-Hosts: Drea Mora & Rob OkeyProduced by: Rob OkeyFOR BONUS CONTENT & TO SUPPORT THE SHOW, JOIN OUR PATREON AT:www.patreon.com/unbelieverspodcastDONATE TO HELP JASON SAENZ HERE:https://www.gofundme.com/jason-saenz-recovery-fund-aka-saenz-spinezwww.unbelieverspodcast.com@UnbelieversPodcast on Instagram@The Unbelievers Podcast on Facebook@UnbelieversPod on TwitterUnbelieversPodcast@gmail.com

Justin discusses the recent USC scandal involving Lori Loughlin,  Felicity  Hoffman and other Hollywood Celebrities. Ciarra lists the best paying jobs for millennials. This week’s Special Guest, Ricardo Cornett gives a glimpse into his budding fitness brand. Follow Millennial Talk on Instagram @itsMillennialTalk Follow Justin on Instagram @iZolanski Follow Ciarra on Instagram @CiarraLogan Follow Ricardo on Instagram @RicardoCornett24

1. Who is Kara Robinson 2. How Marcus Aurelius Anderson uses personal development, motivation, and a growth with his clients 3. Check out:https://www.reallyfamouspodcast.com/ 4. "Self-confidence is really everything in an authentic interview” 5. How To Conduct A Interview That Is Real 7. Making A Difference Vs Just Making another Dollar 8. Her Love For Interviewing hollywood's greatest stars 9. How Important Struggling Is In Our Lives If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe to the podcast. I'd also love it if you could leave me a review. Doing this will help more people discover the show so they to can get more done and get more out of life. If you want to get on a podcast, or receive the cliff notes for this episode: email me at interviewsondemand.com -Website: www.logantylernelson.com -Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/thelogantylernelson -LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/logan-nelson-964ba140/ -Twitter: https://twitter.com/LoganTnelson -My Radio Show: http://logantylernelson.libsyn.com/ Start a course And Make Passive Income: https://conveyour.com?rfsn=1126381.f4b9e2  

THE FUTURE IS NOW and Cody is joined by comedian Dylan Farr to learn the ins and outs of how Cody’s new home: HELLywood. You can find your copy of the book online and from the WORST dude standing on a street corner yelling at people about his new cool idea.   The Illuminati in Hollywood: Celebrities, Conspiracies, and Secret Societies in Pop Culture and the Entertainment Industry by Mark Dice   The infamous Illuminati secret society represents the pinnacle of power in politics, banking, and the news media; but what about the entertainment industry? Do Hollywood’s elite studios, producers, and celebrities have a secret agenda? Are they part of a covert conspiracy?   Media analyst Mark Dice will show you exactly how Hollywood uses celebrities and entertainment as a powerful propaganda tool to shape our culture, attitudes, behaviors, and to promote corrupt government policies and programs.   You will see how the CIA and the Pentagon work hand in hand with Hollywood to produce blockbuster movies and popular television shows crafted to paint positive portraits of war, Orwellian government surveillance, unconstitutional agendas, and more.   You’ll also learn the strange and secret spiritual beliefs of the stars that fuel their egos and appetites for fame and wealth, making them perfect puppets for the corporate controllers behind the scenes. And you will also discover the rare instances of anti-Illuminati celebrities who have dared to bite the hand that feeds them.   Character Howard Beale once warned in the 1976 classic film Network, “This tube is the most awesome God-damned force in the whole godless world, and woe is us if it ever falls in to the hands of the wrong people,” and unfortunately that is exactly what has happened.   Show Notes: Currently Reading: Communist Propaganda   Topics: Communism, religion, mental illness, YouTube conspiracies, magicians, business meetings, Twitter, 2017, Return to Oz, limousine liberals, Jay Leno, feminism, Kim Kardashian, Miley Cyrus, fucking in nightclubs, gay hip hop, The X-Men, turtle fucking, kangaroo hips, Ellen, truck types, equality, video comments, cult mentality, empathy.   Follow TOMEFOOLERY for information about upcoming episodes & books: @Tomefoolery and Facebook.com/Tomefoolery. Please rate and review on iTunes!   WEBSITE: http://Tomefoolery.com   STORE: http://squareup.com/market/CodyMelcherEsq   PATREON: http://patreon.com/CodyMelcherEsq   FAN GROUP: http://www.facebook.com/groups/Tomefoolery

Joe Schrank, the founder and program director of High Sobriety, discusses what those who go to rehab for sexual addiction experience.Image credit: lev radin / Shutterstock.com

0905 Did You Know : Hollywood celebrities who love Korea & their Korean fans_PART2

0829 Did You Know : Hollywood celebrities who love Korea and their Korean fans

In this episode, Stacy discusses how Hollywood celebrities are leveraged by international companies for global endorsement campaigns, and shares some of the top brand celebrity endorsements around the world.

Hollywood Celebrities ....Alisa Nicole discusses Surprise topic Friday

The Democrats have failed everywhere, but it's not over yet! As the Electoral College prepares to vote, they unleash their greatest weapon: Hollywood Celebrities!!! What can go wrong? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The Democrats have failed everywhere, but it's not over yet! As the Electoral College prepares to vote, they unleash their greatest weapon: Hollywood Celebrities!!! What can go wrong?

Replay of Ollie North interview James Hirsen talks about Hollywood Celebrities devotion to the Democrats, accusations of Taylor Swift new video being racist

Join Garrett LIVE Thursday 10pE/7pW for a fun hour of the most exciting radio you'll hear today!   Hear about one of the most exciting small businesses in Southern California which is finding its way into the hearts and STOMACHS of Hollywood Celebrities!  Ken & Angela Downey of Downey's Desserts will talk about their BITE SIZE dessert treats and why everyone who tries them asks them to cater their next event! Follow Downey's Desserts on Facebook!  And make sure to book your next party, graduation, wedding, shower, fund raiser, corporate meeting or birthday with Downey's Desserts! FOLLOW Rated G Radio to get an update for each fresh new episode.  Click the FOLLOW button right below the episode picture. PODCAST IT!  Click the bottom right button for iTunes and you can download Rated G Radio to your favorite Apple product.  Listen ANYWHERE at your convenience!  

Join Garrett LIVE Thursday 10pE/7pW for a fun hour of the most exciting radio you'll hear today!   Hear about one of the most exciting small businesses in Southern California which is finding its way into the hearts and STOMACHS of Hollywood Celebrities!  Ken & Angela Downey of Downey's Desserts will talk about their BITE SIZE dessert treats and why everyone who tries them asks them to cater their next event! Follow Downey's Desserts on Facebook!  And make sure to book your next party, graduation, wedding, shower, fund raiser, corporate meeting or birthday with Downey's Desserts! FOLLOW Rated G Radio to get an update for each fresh new episode.  Click the FOLLOW button right below the episode picture. PODCAST IT!  Click the bottom right button for iTunes and you can download Rated G Radio to your favorite Apple product.  Listen ANYWHERE at your convenience!  

Chuck Morse talks with Stephen Sochet, author of Hollywood Stories: a Book about Celebrities, Movie Stars, Gossip, Directors, Famous People, History, and more! 2012 Global Ebook Award Winner - Entertainment and Performing Arts Non-Fiction “A WILD, FUN RIDE THROUGH TINSEL TOWN, PAST AND PRESENT!” -- Jan Wahl, KCBS AM/FM & KRON-TV At high noon on a cold November day in 1974, sixty-seven-year-old John Wayne faced off with the staff of the Harvard Lampoon on the famous campus in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The students had issued their challenge by calling the beloved American icon a fraud. Wayne, who had his new movie McQ to promote, responded by saying he would be happy to show his film in the pseudo-intellectual swamps of Harvard Square. After the screening, without writers, the former USC footballer delivered a classic performance. When one smart young man asked where he got his phony toupee, Wayne insisted the hair was real. It wasn't his, but it was real. The appreciative underclassmen loved him and after the Q and A session, they all sat down to dinner. Later Wayne, who was suffering greatly from both gout and the after effects of lung cancer (sadly the Duke only had five years to live), said that day at Harvard was the best time he ever had. Just when you thought you've heard everything about Hollywood comes a totally original new book -- a special blend of biography, history and lore. Hollywood Stories is packed with wild, wonderful short tales about famous stars, movies, directors and many others who have been a part of the world's most fascinating, unpredictable industry! What makes the book unique is that the reader can go to any page and find a completely engaging and illuminating yarn. Sometimes people won't realize that they are reading about The Three Stooges or Popeye the Sailor until they come to the end of the story. The Midwest Book Review says Hollywood Stories is, "packed from cover to cover with fascinating tales." A professional tour guide in Hollywood, Stephen Schochet has researched and told thousands of entertaining anecdotes for over twenty years. He is also the author and narrator of two audiobooks Tales of Hollywood and Fascinating Walt Disney. Tim Sika, host of the radio show Celluloid Dreams on KSJS in San Jose has called Stephen," The best storyteller about Hollywood we have ever heard." Full of funny moments and twist endings, Hollywood Stories features an amazing, all-star cast of legendary characters and icons and will keep you totally entertained! If you are interested in stories about Hollywood Celebrities, Movie Stars, Movie Gossip, Directors, Famous People, and Movie History, this book is for you!

Aug 28, 2013 Podcast: How Hollywood Celebrities Can Look So Good, What To Do When You Can't Eat Fresh Food, Anemia From Your Gut, Natural Remedies for H-Pylori, What Is The Clear Skin Diet. Have a podcast question for Ben? Use the Contact button on the app, call 1-877-209-9439, Skype “pacificfit” or use the “” form... but be prepared to wait - we prioritize audio questions over text questions. ----------------------------------------------------- News Flashes: You can get these News Flashes hot off the presses if you follow Ben on , and . The are enormous - but . ----------------------------------------------------- Special Announcements: Ben's official Ironman Canada/ketosis/minimalist training race report - comes out this Monday in a special . ONE slot remaining - November 21 to December 4, 2013 Thailand Triathlon Adventure with Ben Greenfield - details at . Now including the pre-camp: It's a "high end" triathlon training resort. Brand new facilities - We're going to do coached sessions every day. It won't be hardcore training as much as a focus on learning about nutrition, training, fitness, and how to "get the edge" in endurance, life and health! September 10 to 12, 2013: Hilton London Metropole, London, UK - Join us for the premier global gathering of leaders of the triathlon business community. Enjoy three days of learning, networking and fun at the newly renovated Hilton London Metropole, conveniently located near the ITU World Championship activities in Hyde Park. February 6 to March 6, 2014: Want to get into the Perfect Health Diet retreat in Austin, Texas? Ben Greenfield will be presenting at the Feb 6-Mar 6 retreat. If you're looking for a topic we covered in the past - we have released the Including: 1. The Benefits of Fish vs. Fish Oil 2. The Best Ways to Stop Hair Loss 3. Increase Your Hematocrit & Oxygen Levels 4. Strengthen Your Immune System & Shorten the Duration of a Cold 5. Top 10 Ways to Boost Libido 6. Get Rid of Migraines Naturally 7. Become a Curvaceous, Lean, Ripped Female Athlete Without Destroying Your Health 8. Stop Side Stitches as Fast as Possible 9. Is It Possible for a Vegan to Be a Healthy Endurance Athlete 10. How Much Water Do You Really Need to Drink Each Day And of course, this week's top iTunes review gets a care package straight from Ben - : ----------------------------------------------------- Listener Q&A: As compiled, edited and sometimes read by , the Ben Greenfield Fitness Podcast "sidekick". How Hollywood Celebrities Can Look So Good Louis asks @ 00:25:51 I have been seeing a lot of articles talking about Hollywood actors that have been able to get into amazing shape for their roles and have done so by working out 2-3 hours a day, 6 days a week. This seems to violate the rule of allowing for adequate recovery time and "over training", yet it seems like it's working for them judging by the results. So what gives? Is the importance of recovery time overstated or are these guys all using PED's to get into shape fast? ~ In my reply, I mention the body-typing fitness book at What To Do When You Can't Eat Fresh Food Dom says @ 00:35:14 He normally eats lots of fresh food but his work is taking him away for 8 weeks to a place where all the food is packaged and stored for a long time. Could you recommend a supplement that will help him not feel sluggish from eating like this. ~ In my response, I mention the book "" and the "" video with Jessa and I and also the supplement "". I mention my previous and my episode on the . In those podcasts, I had talked about , Cocochia bars, and Supergreens. I also mention you can OR eat 200-300 calories of . You can also eat or swallow 25-50 EnergyBits and 5-10 Master Amino Pattern (MAP) capsules. Use 10% discount code “BEN” at and get MAP at . Anemia From Your Gut Jasmine says @ 00:45:24 Her best friend who is 19-years-old and has only had her period once (when she was 12). She is slight, Swedish, has low iron and is gluten intolerant. Are there some tests she should get? What kind of diet should she be on? They want to avoid meds. ~ In my reply, I recommend the and also the GI Effects panel from . I also discuss the , supplement and a gut healing diet such as the . Natural Remedies for H-Pylori Nenad says @ 00:54:58 A few weeks ago he was diagnose with H-Pylori along with gut pain, bloating and irregular bowel movements. He wants to treat this naturally. Can he use Oil of Oregano to treat the infection? Is there another/better way? He has noticed a lack of energy and strength lately, could that be related? ~ In my reply to Nenad, I mention how I opted to take a high-grade four times per day and a supplement called two times per day, and I was good to go within a month. I probably got lucky, because many times, parasitic infections require more serious medication and long term treatment. Often, it all depends on the type of parasite you have. What Is The Clear Skin Diet Hannah says @ 01:01:57 She is in her early 20s and did the and a bunch of topical stuff that the dermatologist recommended but nothing worked. She doesn't want to take an antibiotics - what would you recommend? ~ In my response to Hannah, I recommend a 5 Ways To Know If Your Workout Is Working Daniel asks @ 01:11:08 How do you assess a new regimen, whether it's a new diet, supplement, workout routine, etc , when there are an infinite amount of factors affecting how you feel day-to-day? Many of these influences may not even be known or considered. ~ In my response, I mention ----------------------------------------------------- -- And don't forget to go to -- Prior to asking your question, do a search in upper right hand corner of this website for the keywords associated with your question. Many of the questions we receive have already been answered here at Ben Greenfield Fitness! Podcast music from 80s Fitness (Reso Remix) by KOAN Sound. !

Exhibiting an innate creativity at an early age, Anthony Merante experimented with various genres of art in which he could create and feel accomplished. In this fashion he developed a love for Oil Painting and Photography which led him to the art of Makeup Artistry. What started out with friends and family took on a new meaning as he realized he had found his calling. Encouraged by professionals, as well as friends, Anthony enrolled in the Joe Blasco School of Makeup in Los Angeles and graduated in 2002. Anthony's makeup technique emphasize on bringing out the inner beauty and his goal is to enhance the essence of each individual. Anthony's work has appeared in magazines such as Marie Claire, Esquire, GQ, YRB, ITEM, 944, Surface, WWD, GenLux, Violet, EGO and Lucire. In his 6 year professional career, Anthony's Client list has evolved from friends and family to some of the best known Hollywood Celebrities. Join us for some fun and inspiring conversation.