Podcasts about Lill

Niedrige Geburtenraten und eine eher restriktive Zuwanderungspolitik ließen die Bevölkerungszahl in Japan seit 2009 um fünf Millionen Menschen fallen. Eine Folge: Leerstand. Um die 14 Prozent aller Wohngebäude sind betroffen. Das soll sich ändern. Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Hintergrund

Nightwish-, Wintersun- ja Auri-yhtyeistä tunnettu rumpali Kai Hahto on maamme arvostetuimpia soittajia ja myös rumpuergonomian asiantuntija. Viime aikoina Hahto on vienyt rumpaloinnin uudenlaiseen ympäristöön, sillä hän on esiintynyt yksin Alone-otsikon alla niin Suomessa kuin Euroopassakin. Rumpusetti kasataan itsenäisyyspäivänä 6.12.2025 Kouvolan House Of Rockiin.–  Näissä illoissa pystyn tuomaan rumpujen soittoa enemmän keskiöön ja valokeilaan. Kun yksin nousee lavalle, niin ei saa yhtyetovereista tukea, Hahto kertoo.Alone-iltojen ydin on musiikki ja rumpujen soittaminen, mutta esitykset eivät ole perinteisiä rumpuklinikoita. Hahto kertoo, että suurin haaste illoissa on ollut valita ohjelmisto. Miehen uran aikana levyttämistä sadoista kappaleista ehtii yhdessä illassa esittää vain tietyn määrän.–  Alone-esitys koostuu pääosin tuoreesta materiaalista Nightwishin Yesterwynde-albumilta ja Wintersunin Time II:lta. Mukana on myös yllätyksiä, Hahto sanoo.Lavalla kuultavat kappaleet saavat taustojaan esiin, kun Hahto tarttuu biisien välissä mikrofoniin ja avaa biisien syntyä.Puolen Suomen Iltapäivän Jani Nivala jututti Hahtoa ja keskusteli rumpalin sooloiltojen ideasta sekä uudenlaisesta tavasta esiintyä.

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Nachspiel

Il-forzi tal-pulizija kontra t-terroriżmu madwar l-Awstralja ħabbru kampanja ġdida li għandha l-għan li teduka lin-nies dwar kif jipproteġu lilhom infushom f'każ ta' attakk bl-armi. L-awtoritajiet jgħidu li l-Awstralja tinsab fil-periklu minn attakki bl-armi, speċjalment f'postijiet iffullati bin-nies, filwaqt li l-livell ta' theddida terroristika tal-pajjiż għadha probabbli.

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Tag für Tag

Have you ever wondered how does Santa make all the toys? How does he keep track of the naughty and nice list? Where is his village located? In today's episode, I'm reading the cozy children's story "Lill's Travels In Santa Claus Land" by Ellis Towne, Sophie May, and Ella Farman. In this charming story from 1878, a young girl named Lill discovers the magical Santa Claus Land and finds the answer to these questions and more! This is the perfect story to put you in the mood for Christmas. If you would like to read more stories by these authors, you can find the collection online for free at: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/20112/20112-h/20112-h.htm    Ways to support the show: Rate and review: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/a-cozy-christmas-podcast/id1523423375  Buy me a coffee? www.ko-fi.com/cozychristmas  Ornaments, Mugs, and Notebooks: https://www.etsy.com/shop/CozyChristmasPodcast  Logo shirt designs: http://tee.pub/lic/edygC_h4D1c    Contact Me: facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cozychristmaspodcast  instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cozychristmaspodcast/  twitter: https://twitter.com/CozyXmasPod  youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCikiozEbu0h9pKeI1Ei5TQ email: cozychristmaspodcast@gmail.com       #podcast #Christmas #christmaspodcast #christmasstory #victorianchristmas 

Grenzen und Teilung, doch in der Liebe zu Kampfkünsten vereint. Ssireum und Taekwondo könnten Nord- und Südkorea wieder zusammenbringen. Es wäre nicht das erste Mal, dass der Sport die Wogen zwischen Norden und Süden glättet. Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Nachspiel. Feature

Moni liiketoimintapäättäjä kokee teknologian etäiseksi, vaikeaksi tai jopa pelottavaksi. Silti juuri teknologia on usein avain liiketoiminnan kehittämiseen ja kasvuun.Tässä jaksossa keskustelemme siitä, miksi teknologia herättää epävarmuutta ja miten liiketoiminnan ja IT:n välistä kuilua voi kaventaa. Keskustelu pohjautuu kokemuksiin ja havaintoihin kahdelta eri puolelta: liiketoiminnan ja teknologian rajapinnasta.Vieraana on Hanna Saari, joka on kulkenut urapolun finanssialalta ohjelmistorobotiikan kautta teknologia-alan yrittäjyyteen ja toimii nykyään osakkaana ja myynnistä vastaavana NorthCodessa. Hanna tunnetaan myös blogistaan, jossa hän tekee ATK:sta ymmärrettävää business-ihmisille.Juontajana tuttuun tapaan Antti Pietilä, Loyalisticin perustaja ja SaaS Finland-yhteisön vetäjä.• Miksi liiketoimintapäättäjiä pelottaa teknologia – ja mistä tämä tunne kumpuaa?• Miksi on tärkeämpää omistaa ongelma kuin ratkaisu?• Miten Hannan oma urapolku pankkialalta teknologia-alalle opetti näkemään IT:n eri kulmista?• Miten teknologiaa voi hyödyntää liiketoiminnan kehittämisessä ilman, että siitä tarvitsee tulla “tekninen”?• Mitä jokainen business-johtaja voisi tehdä jo tänään tullakseen teknologisesti rohkeammaksi?00:00 Intro – Miksi teknologia pelottaa?02:45 Hannan urapolku pankkimaailmasta ohjelmistorobotiikkaan07:10 North Code ja arki ohjelmistoyrityksen osakkaana12:40 Mikä saa business-johtajat arastelemaan teknologiaa?18:55 “Omista ongelma, älä ratkaisua” – miksi tämä ajattelu vapauttaa?25:20 Kuinka kuilu liiketoiminnan ja IT:n välillä syntyy ja miten se voidaan ylittää32:45 Bloggaamisesta ja ATK:n tekemisestä ymmärrettäväksi39:50 Naiset teknologia-alalla – rohkaisua ja esimerkkejä46:10 Yhteenveto ja opit muille business-päättäjille50:20 Loppusanat

Fluent Fiction - Hungarian: Capturing Amalfi's Autumn: A Photographer's Dream & Challenge Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/hu/episode/2025-10-11-07-38-20-hu Story Transcript:Hu: A hullámok csendes susogása és a partvidék festői látványa fogadta Lillát, amikor megérkezett az Amalfi-partra.En: The quiet rustle of the waves and the picturesque view of the coast greeted Lilla as she arrived at the Amalfi Coast.Hu: Ősz volt, a levegő hűvös és lágy, tele volt a nyugalommal, amit csak az ilyen időszak tudott hozni.En: It was autumn, the air cool and gentle, filled with the tranquility that only this season could bring.Hu: Lilla, a lelkes utazófotós, most egy új kihívás elé nézett: megörökíteni az őszi csendet és szépséget egyetlen képen.En: Lilla, the enthusiastic travel photographer, now faced a new challenge: capturing the autumn tranquility and beauty in a single photograph.Hu: Lilla tudta, hogy nem lesz egyszerű dolga.En: Lilla knew that it wasn't going to be easy.Hu: Az időjárás gyakran szeszélyes volt, az ég szürke és borongós, az eső pedig hol csendesen, hol erőteljesen zúdult alá.En: The weather was often capricious, the sky gray and overcast, with rain sometimes pouring down quietly, sometimes forcefully.Hu: Első napján Lilla fedél alá keresett menedéket, amikor látta, hogy a felhők összegyűlnek.En: On her first day, Lilla sought shelter when she saw the clouds gathering.Hu: András, egy helyi halász, épp a hajójából szállt ki, és észrevette Lilla küzdelmét az esővel.En: András, a local fisherman, had just stepped off his boat and noticed Lilla's struggle with the rain.Hu: "A tenger mindig megváltozik," mondta neki mosolyogva.En: "The sea always changes," he said to her with a smile.Hu: "De éppen ez a szépsége.En: "But that's precisely its beauty."Hu: "Lilla elgondolkodott András szavain.En: Lilla pondered András' words.Hu: Minden nap újabb kihívást jelentett.En: Each day presented a new challenge.Hu: Gyakran találkozott a barátjával, Noémivel, aki a közeli kávézóban dolgozott.En: She often met her friend, Noémi, who worked at the nearby café.Hu: Noémi is a parton élt régebb óta, és tudta, hogy az Amalfi-coast sosem pontosan az, amit az ember elvárna.En: Noémi had lived on the coast for a long time and knew that the Amalfi-coast is never quite what one would expect.Hu: "A változás a szépség része," biztatta Noémi Lillát egy forró eszpresszó mellett.En: "Change is part of the beauty," Noémi encouraged Lilla over a hot espresso.Hu: Ahogy telt az idő, Lilla egyre türelmesebben várta a pillanatot, amikor a napfény áttör a felhőkön.En: As time passed, Lilla waited more patiently for the moment when the sunlight would break through the clouds.Hu: Egyik délután, amikor a levegő friss volt az esőtől, egyszer csak megszakadt a felhőzet.En: One afternoon, when the air was fresh from the rain, the cloud cover suddenly parted.Hu: Az aranyóra fénye hirtelen beragyogta a partot, a házakat és a hullámokat.En: The golden hour light suddenly illuminated the coast, the houses, and the waves.Hu: A levelek aranyló vörössége és a nyugodtság, ami az egész tájat átjárta, mint egy tökéletes festmény elevenedtek meg előtte.En: The golden redness of the leaves and the tranquility that permeated the whole landscape came to life before her like a perfect painting.Hu: Lilla gyorsan előkapta a fényképezőgépét, figyelte a fény változását, és elkészítette a fényképet, amit keresett.En: Lilla quickly grabbed her camera, observed the change of light, and captured the photograph she had been seeking.Hu: Ez a pillanat, ez a fény, mind megvolt benne, amit megálmodott.En: This moment, this light, encompassed everything she had dreamed of.Hu: Úgy érezte, hogy sikerült megörökítenie a nyugodt szépséget, amely egy csendes őszi Amalfi-part esszenciája.En: She felt she had succeeded in capturing the serene beauty that is the essence of a quiet autumn on the Amalfi Coast.Hu: Amikor Lilla elhagyta a partot, egy új felismeréssel gazdagodott: a tökéletesség nem feltétlenül a hibátlan időjárásban vagy körülményekben rejlik.En: When Lilla left the coast, she was enriched with a new realization: perfection does not necessarily lie in flawless weather or conditions.Hu: Néha az igazi szépség a váratlan fordulatokban és a pillanatokban van, amiket elfogadni és értékelni kell.En: Sometimes, true beauty is found in unexpected turns and moments that must be accepted and appreciated.Hu: Boldogan tért vissza, tarsolyában a képpel, amely egész úti kalandjának és türelmének mementója maradt.En: She returned happily, carrying with her the photograph that became the memento of her entire travel adventure and patience. Vocabulary Words:rustle: susogáspicturesque: festőitranquility: nyugalomcapture: megörökítenicapricious: szeszélyesovercast: borongósshelter: menedékpondered: elgondolkodottilluminated: beragyogtagolden hour: aranyórapermeated: átjártaessence: esszenciarealization: felismerésflawless: hibátlanmemento: mementóenthusiastic: lelkeschallenge: kihíváspresented: jelentettpatiently: türelmesenbreak through: áttörserene: nyugodtencompassed: mind megvolt benneunexpected: váratlanflawless: hibátlancircumstances: körülményekunexpected turns: váratlan fordulatokappreciated: értékelniadventure: kalandpatient: türelmestranquil: nyugodt

In vielen Projekten werden Security-Anforderungen immer noch top-down definiert – von Architekt:innen oder Security-Spezialist:innen – ohne das Entwicklungsteam oder die Fachseite wirklich einzubeziehen. Das führt zu unvollständigen Schutzkonzepten und Widerstand bei der Umsetzung. In diesem Vortrag zeigen wir anhand eines vierstufigen Modells, wie Security kollaborativ geplant und integriert werden kann – von der statischen Systemsicht über Schutzbedarfsanalyse und Bedrohungserkennung bis hin zu konkreten Gegenmaßnahmen. Mit OWASP Cornucopia Security Poker und Domain Storytelling erarbeiten wir greifbare Methoden, wie fachliche Assets, Angriffsvektoren und Schwachstellen teamübergreifend identifiziert und diskutiert werden können. So entsteht ein Security-Konzept, das nicht nur sicher, sondern auch akzeptiert und verstanden ist – vom Developer bis zum Datenschutzbeauftragten. Wir haben diese Episode bei BEDcon 2025 aufgezeichnet. Links OWASP Cornucopia Domain Story Telling mit Henning Schwentner und Stefan Hofer

I veckans avsnitt har Tindra och Amanda med sin inga mindre än Karin och Niklas Agild! Karin, Niklas och Tindra träffades under inspelningen av Love is Blind säsong 2, och Karin och Niklas gick ju också ur programmet som ett gift par efter att sändingen var klar. Bara något år senare sitter de tillsammans med sin dotter Lill i sin nya lägenhet och reflekterar kring hur märkligt och häftigt det är när livet händer. Det pratas om Love is Blind och hur de ser tillbaks på resan idag. De kommer in på svårigheter de behövt ta sig igenom tidigare i livet, livsåskådning och reflektioner kring livet och döden som också leder in på temat hur allt som de varit med om faktiskt har lett dem till varandra. Lyssna in för ett fantastiskt hjärtvärmande avsnitt! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Ez az adás hat napnyi moziélményt mesél el a Budapesti Klasszikus Film Maratonról: vetítésről vetítésre rohantam, a szünetekben pedig dumáltam Baski Sándorral, Czirfusz Vikivel, Gyárfás Dorkával, Gyenge Zsolttal, Gyöngyösi Lillával, Incze Katával, Madarász Istivel, Moskát Anitával és Pozsonyi Jankával.Közben háromszor futottam össze David Cronenberggel, kétszer Atom Egoyannal, végighallgattam három zseniális Varró Attila-felvezetőt, és ismét bebizonyosodott számomra, hogy a mozizás az egyik legnagyobb öröm az életben.00:00 - Bevezető01:49 - Külön banda után (Gyöngyösi Lilla)07:50 - Showgirls előtt (Baski Sándor)10:13 - Showgirls után (Czirfusz Viki)13:39 - Showgirls után (Baski Sándor)18:27 - Kelenföld21:55 - Pozsonyi Janka nagy bejelentése24:48 - Johnny Mnemonic előtt (Moskát Anita, Madarász Isti)29:17 - Johnny Mnemonic után (Moskát Anita, Madarász Isti)31:39 - Rohanás a Lánchídon32:30 - Szamuráj, Két angol lány és a kontinens (Gyöngyösi Lilla)37:28 - Cronenberg-mesterkurzus után (Gyöngyösi Lilla)43:14 - Eljövendő szép napok után (Gyárfás Dorka)50:20 - Elemi ösztön előtt (Gyenge Zsolt)52:15 - Elemi ösztön után (Gyenge Zsolt)56:28 - Felvonó a vérpadra előtt58:20 - Felvonó a vérpadra után (Moskát Anita, Madarász Isti)1:00:23 - eXistenZ előtt (Baski Sándor)1:02:01 - eXistenZ után (Moskát Anita, Madarász Isti)1:05:50 - Fény és árnyék (Gyöngyösi Lilla)1:09:49 - Eastern Promises után, búcsú1:13:07 - Karambol (Incze Kata)Készítette: Varga FerencZene: Hegyi Olivér, Kristóf NorbertEz az adás a Budapesti Klasszikus Film Maraton támogatásával jött létre.

Een postbode die altijd lacht, of het nou goed, of niet goed gaat. 'Al-ḥamdu lillāh' Is het antwoord.Dat en een vleugje Maya astrologie...Want we komen net uit de lunaire schorpioen maan en we gaan door naar de 3e van dit jaar. Wat doen we dan?

From Early Break to professional soccer-play-by-play announcer for USL League One!Show Sponsored by NEBCOOur Sponsors:* Check out Hims: https://hims.com/EARLYBREAK* Check out Washington Red Raspberries: https://redrazz.orgAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Nachspiel

Fluent Fiction - Hungarian: Echoes of Enigma: Unveiling Miskolctapolcai's Hidden Whispers Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/hu/episode/2025-08-25-22-34-02-hu Story Transcript:Hu: A kellemes nyári nap besütött a Miskolctapolcai Barlangfürdőbe, ahol a víz melegen csobogott a patinás kövek közt.En: The pleasant summer sun shone into the Miskolctapolcai Barlangfürdő, where the water flowed warmly among the patinated stones.Hu: Bence és Lilla elhatározták, hogy egy pihentető napot töltenek itt.En: Bence and Lilla decided to spend a relaxing day here.Hu: Zsófi, a helyi idegenvezető épp történeteket mesélt a fürdőről.En: Zsófi, the local tour guide, was telling stories about the bath.Hu: „Tudjátok, régen azt mondták, itt szellemek laknak” – szólt Zsófi, miközben a barlangok mélyére mutatott.En: "You know, it was once said that ghosts live here," Zsófi said, pointing to the depths of the caves.Hu: Lilla csak mosolygott, de Bence érdeklődéssel hallgatta.En: Lilla just smiled, but Bence listened with interest.Hu: Valami rejtélyre vágyott, amit felfedezhet.En: He longed for a mystery to uncover.Hu: Ahogy belemerültek a vízbe, Bence hirtelen csendben maradt.En: As they submerged in the water, Bence suddenly fell silent.Hu: Egy halk suttogást hallott, mely a barlang falaiból szűrődött ki.En: He heard a soft whisper filtering through the cave walls.Hu: Körbenézett, de sehol nem látott senkit.En: He looked around but saw no one.Hu: "Hallottátok ezt?" - kérdezte izgatottan.En: "Did you hear that?" he asked excitedly.Hu: Lilla csak legyintett: „Képzelődsz, ez csak a vízhang.”En: Lilla just waved it off: "You're imagining things, it's just the echo."Hu: Bence azonban nem hagyta annyiban.En: However, Bence wasn't about to let it go.Hu: "Muszáj kiderítenem, mi ez."En: "I must find out what this is."Hu: Lillának nem tetszett az ötlet, hogy elhagyják a biztonságos területet.En: Lilla didn't like the idea of leaving the safe area.Hu: Zsófi pedig figyelmeztette őket, hogy néhány rész le van zárva, mert könnyű eltévedni.En: Zsófi warned them that some parts were closed off because it was easy to get lost.Hu: „Visszajövünk hamar.En: "We'll be back soon.Hu: Csak körbenézek” – mondta Bence, és titokban Lillával elindult a barlang mélyebb részei felé.En: Just having a look around," Bence said and secretly set off with Lilla toward the deeper parts of the cave.Hu: A suttogás egyre hangosabbá vált, ahogy haladtak előre.En: The whispering grew louder as they proceeded.Hu: Végül egy elzárt, víz alatti részt találtak.En: Eventually, they found a closed-off underwater section.Hu: Bence látta, hogy egy régi vésés húzódik a falakon.En: Bence saw old carvings running along the walls.Hu: A suttogás pontosan itt volt a legerősebb.En: The whisper was strongest here.Hu: Egy ősi nyelven írt üzenetet látott meg, amit már senki nem értett.En: He spotted a message written in an ancient language that no one understood anymore.Hu: Bence dokumentálta a hangot, és gyorsan visszafordultak Zsófihoz.En: Bence documented the sound and they quickly turned back to Zsófi.Hu: Amikor visszatértek, megmutatta a felvételt Zsófinak és Lillának.En: When they returned, he showed the recording to Zsófi and Lilla.Hu: „Talán valami történelmi jelentősége van” – mondta Zsófi elgondolkodva.En: "Maybe it has some historical significance," Zsófi pondered.Hu: Lilla, aki eddig szkeptikus volt, most nyitottabbá vált Bence iránti lelkesedés miatt.En: Lilla, who had been skeptical until now, became more open due to Bence's enthusiasm.Hu: Végül mindhárman izgatottan várták, hogy tovább kutassák a fürdő titkait.En: In the end, all three eagerly awaited the chance to further explore the secrets of the bath.Hu: Bence megtanulta, hogy követni kell az ösztöneit, de óvatosnak is kell lenni.En: Bence learned that it's important to follow his instincts, but also to be cautious.Hu: Meggyőzte Lillát is, hogy néha a legváratlanabb helyeken találhatók a legféltettebb titkok.En: He convinced Lilla that sometimes the most guarded secrets can be found in the most unexpected places.Hu: A barlangok továbbra is őrzik rejtelmes suttogásaikat, és azóta is vonzzák azokat, akik kalandra vágynak.En: The caves continue to keep their mysterious whispers and have since drawn those who crave adventure. Vocabulary Words:pleasant: kellemesshone: besütöttpatinated: patináslocal: helyiguide: idegenvezetőwhisper: suttogásproceed: haladnakcarvings: vésésancient: ősisubmerged: belemerültekecho: vízhangengulfed: szűrődöttcautious: óvatosnakinstincts: ösztöneitsignificance: jelentőségeunexpected: váratlanabbguarded: féltettebbcrave: vágynakskeptical: szkeptikusenthusiasm: lelkesedésmystery: rejtélyresubdue: csendbenhallucinatory: képzelődszdepths: mélyérepondered: elgondolkodvadocumented: dokumentáltabeckoned: figyelmeztettereluctant: tiltakozvaventure: kalandramisguided: eltévedni

In this powerful conversation, Stephanie Lill from Mindful Sparks completely reframes how we think about compassion in schools. Far from being a "nice to have," compassion emerges as an essential leadership skill that goes beyond kindness and empathy to create real, lasting change. Lilly breaks down the crucial distinctions: kindness is doing nice things, empathy is understanding someone's situation, but compassion is taking action to address the root causes of suffering. What makes this episode particularly valuable is Lilly's honest exploration of self-compassion, especially for those of us who worry that being too kind to ourselves might make us complacent. Through practical strategies like using post-it note reminders, checking in with our mind, emotions, and body, and knowing when to pause before making decisions, she shows how self-compassion actually creates the mental space we need to respond thoughtfully rather than react impulsively. Her story about a school leader who chose vulnerability during an air pollution crisis demonstrates how authentic leadership can transform school culture in profound ways. LinksMindful Sparks - Mindfulness-based training for schoolsMindful Moments Podcast - Mindful Sparks' own podcast seriesConnect with Lilly on Instagram @mindful_sparks or LinkedIn Episode PartnersTeacher Development TrustInternational Curriculum AssociationJoin Shane's Intensive Leadership Programme at educationleaders.co/intensiveShane Leaning, an organisational coach based in Shanghai, supports school leaders globally. Passionate about empowment, he is the author of the best-selling 'Change Starts Here.' Shane is a leading educational voice in the UK, Asia and around the world.You can find Shane on LinkedIn and Bluesky. or shaneleaning.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In manchen Orten im Großraum der philippinischen Hauptstadt Manila sackt der Boden um bis zu zehn Zentimeter im Jahr ab. Überschwemmungen sind Alltag in der Metropole. Häuser und Straßen werden höher gelegt, um den Fluten zu trotzen. Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Weltzeit

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Campus & Karriere

Die Verfassung ist klar: Japan darf nie wieder Krieg führen. Eine Lehre aus dem Zweiten Weltkrieg sowie Hiroshima und Nagasaki. Doch das Land fühlt sich bedroht und rüstet auf. Damit steht es im Zwiespalt mit dem Selbstbild als Friedensnation. Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Hintergrund

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Tag für Tag

En timmes fågelsång utan prat fångat av mikrofonerna i en kanot som färdades i Storån och Lillån i Färnebofjärdens nationalpark under Fågelsångsnatten 2025. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radio Play. Ljudtekniker i kanot: Andreas Tosting.I den åtta timmar långa sändningen av Fågelsångsnatten 2025 kan du också höra reporter Lena Näslund och fågelexpert Didrik Vanhoenacker kommentera det som hörs. Men här är det en timmes rena fågelljud från kanotfärden. Bland fågelrösterna du kan höra finns exempelvis skogssnäppa, vattenrall, enkelbeckasin, sävsparv, taltrast, koltrast, talgoxe, gärdsmyg, bofink, lövsångare och (på slutet) spelande orrar.Hela Fågelsångsnatten 2025 och alla tidigare Fågelsångsnätter kan du höra här.

Die Regierungskoalition des japanischen Premiers Shigeru Ishiba hat bei den Oberhauswahlen die Mehrheit verloren. Er muss nun für jedes Vorhaben nach Partnern suchen. Ein historischer Umstand für Japan, der eine neue politische Kultur erfordert. Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Kommentare und Themen der Woche

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Tag für Tag

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Tag für Tag

Fluent Fiction - Hungarian: From Strangers to Allies: A Wildlife Collaboration Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/hu/episode/2025-06-21-22-34-02-hu Story Transcript:Hu: A budapesti Természettudományi Múzeum folyosóin egy forró nyári napon pezsgő élet zajlott.En: The corridors of the budapesti Natural History Museum were bustling with life on a hot summer day.Hu: Árpád csendesen bóklászott az új különleges kiállításon, amely a magyar vadvilággal foglalkozott.En: Árpád wandered quietly through the new special exhibition focused on Hungarian wildlife.Hu: A nap meleg fénye beáramlott az ablakokon, különleges mintákat vetítve a falakra, miközben az emberek lépései és halk beszélgetéseik visszhangoztak a tágas termekben.En: The warm daylight streamed through the windows, casting unique patterns on the walls as the footsteps and soft conversations of people echoed in the spacious halls.Hu: Árpád, a természetfotós, akinek különösen fontos volt a magyar ökoszisztémák megismerése, egy inspiráló projektet keresett.En: Árpád, a nature photographer particularly interested in understanding Hungarian ecosystems, was looking for an inspiring project.Hu: A termek között lassan sétálva a kiállítás egyik részébe botlott, ahol Lilla, lelkes környezettudományi hallgató, mesélt a látogatóknak a kiállításról és bőszen hangoztatta a természetvédelem fontosságát.En: As he slowly strolled through the rooms, he stumbled upon a part of the exhibition where Lilla, a passionate environmental science student, was telling visitors about the exhibition and fervently emphasizing the importance of conservation.Hu: Lilla, aki önkéntesként tevékenykedett a múzeumban, tele volt energiával.En: Lilla, who volunteered at the museum, was full of energy.Hu: Ahogy figyelte a látogatóknak tartott előadását, Árpád nem tudta nem észrevenni az őszinte lelkesedést a lány hangjában.En: Observing her presentation to visitors, Árpád couldn't help but notice the genuine enthusiasm in her voice.Hu: Ahogy egy csoport odébb állt, Árpád megérezte, hogy itt az idő, hogy kérdéseit feltegye Lillának.En: As a group moved on, Árpád felt it was time to ask Lilla his questions.Hu: Átlépett a kis közönség után keletkezett csendben, és megszólította őt.En: He stepped forward in the quiet that followed the small audience and addressed her.Hu: "Üdv, érdeklődtem a magyar vadvilág után egy fotóprojekthez," kezdte Árpád bizonytalanul, miközben próbálta nem elárulni korábbi rossz tapasztalatai miatti zárkózottságát.En: "Hello, I was interested in Hungarian wildlife for a photography project," Árpád began uncertainly, while trying not to reveal his previous bad experiences that had made him reserved.Hu: Lilla szeme felcsillant, mikor meglátta Árpád kameráját.En: Lilla's eyes sparkled when she saw Árpád's camera.Hu: "Ó, ön fotós?En: "Oh, are you a photographer?"Hu: " kérdezte izgatottan.En: she asked excitedly.Hu: "Nagyon örülnék, ha egy tapasztalt személy segítene a projektemben.En: "I would be thrilled if an experienced person would help with my project.Hu: Éppen egy magyar biodiverzitási témán dolgozom.En: I am currently working on a Hungarian biodiversity topic."Hu: "Mindketten érezték, hogy talán most találtak valakit, aki megérti és osztja az ő szenvedélyüket.En: They both felt they might have found someone who understood and shared their passion.Hu: Az érdekes beszélgetés alatt a Dunai tokhalról szóló előadásra sodródtak, ami még inkább közelebb hozta őket.En: During the engaging conversation, they drifted towards a lecture about the Dunai tokhal, which brought them even closer.Hu: Lelkesen beszélgettek a tokok megőrzésének lehetőségeiről és a magyar természet értékes kincseiről.En: They enthusiastically talked about the possibilities of sturgeon conservation and the valuable treasures of Hungarian nature.Hu: Az előadás végén Árpád és Lilla mosollyal az arcukon cseréltek telefonszámot.En: At the end of the lecture, Árpád and Lilla exchanged phone numbers with smiles on their faces.Hu: Árpád felajánlotta, hogy segít a fotózással Lilla projektjéhez, míg Lilla megígérte, hogy bevezeti Árpádot a kutatói körbe, ahol a tudósok új inspirációt nyújthatnak számára.En: Árpád offered to help with photography for Lilla's project, while Lilla promised to introduce Árpád to the research community, where scientists could offer him new inspiration.Hu: Ez a találkozás mindkettőjükben változást hozott.En: This encounter brought a change in both of them.Hu: Árpád ráébredt, hogy a szenvedély megosztása másokkal mekkora erőt adhat.En: Árpád realized how much strength sharing passion with others could give.Hu: Lilla pedig magabiztosabb lett, tudva, hogy lelkesedése kapukat nyithat meg és segíthet a kapcsolatteremtésben.En: Lilla became more confident, knowing that her enthusiasm could open doors and help in making connections.Hu: Ketten együtt hamar megtalálták az útjukat, hogy egy szebb és zöldebb jövőt tervezzenek, ahol a magyar vadvilág megőrzése mindenki számára fontos lesz.En: Together, they quickly found their path to plan a brighter and greener future where the preservation of Hungarian wildlife would be important to everyone. Vocabulary Words:corridors: folyosóinbustling: pezsgőexhibition: kiállításonwildlife: vadvilággalstreamed: beáramlottpatterns: mintákatspacious: tágasecosystems: ökoszisztémákstrolled: sétálvastumbled: botlottfervently: bőszenconservation: természetvédelemvolunteered: önkénteskéntgenuine: őszinteenthusiasm: lelkesedéstreserved: zárkózottságátsparkled: felcsillantthrilled: örülnékbiodiversity: biodiverzitásiengaging: érdekeslecture: előadássturgeon: tokhalróltreasures: kincseirőlexchanged: cseréltekinspiration: inspirációencounter: találkozásconfidence: magabiztosabbconnections: kapcsolatteremtésbenpreservation: megőrzésestrength: erőt

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Tag für Tag

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Tag für Tag

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Tag für Tag

Petteri Orpon hallitus pitää yhä kiinni velkaantumisen hillitsemisestä, vaikka oppositio ja myös asiantuntijat arvostelevat hallituksen hylänneen tavoitteensa. Millainen merkitys hallitusten tavoitteiden onnistumisella tai epäonnistumisella on? Uskooko hallitus itse velkapuheisiinsa? Miksi äänestäjät välillä rankaisevat, välillä eivät? Viime hallitusten suoriutumista vertailevat nykyiset lobbarit, entiset keskeisten poliitikkojen ykkösavustajat. Studiossa ovat entinen kokoomuksen ministeriryhmän erityisavustaja Anssi Kujala, pääministeri Juha Sipilän (kesk.) kabinettipäällikkö Riina Nevamäki sekä kahden demaripääministerin, Antti Rinteen ja Sanna Marinin erityisavustaja Dimitri Qvintus. Toimittajana on Antti Pilke. Suora lähetys.

19 évesen 50 dollárral New Yorkban - Kirilla Lilla - MÓKA Podcast  ep. 264   Mi történik, ha 19 évesen két bőrönddel, három kabáttal, telefon nélkül, 50 dollárral a zsebedben megérkezel New Yorkba? Ha Kirilla Lillának hívnak, akkor túlélés lesz belőle – és egy életre szóló kaland.   Lilla, vagy ahogy mostanában sokan ismerik: Valid with an Accent, őszintén mesél amerikai útjának kezdetéről: hogyan lett au pair, milyen megalázó és sokszor traumatikus helyzeteken ment keresztül az első családnál, és hogyan menekült el Massachusettsből Long Islandre – gyakorlatilag önmagát mentve meg. Szó esik a diszkriminációról, kulturális különbségekről, a babysitter világ kizsákmányoló oldaláról, és arról, hogy mennyi az annyi – konkrét számokkal.   De ez csak a kezdet! Lilla története nemcsak bátorító, de elképesztően inspiráló. Modellkedésbe kezdett New Yorkban, megtanulta, hogyan találja meg önmagát egy olyan világban, ahol a nők testét gyakran áruként kezelik. Elindította saját podcastjét is, Valid with an Accent címmel, amelyben amerikai kultúráról, identitásról, kapcsolati játszmákról és női önismeretről beszél.   A MÓKA Podcast e heti epizódjában nemcsak egy megélt amerikai álmot hallasz, hanem megtudod: miért fontos a belső hangra hallgatni, mit jelent túlélni nőként egy idegen világban, és hogyan lesz a sebekből erő.   És persze nevetünk is – mert azért mégiscsak MÓKA Podcast.  

Så här låter fågelsången en majnatt på fem platser i Sverige och en i Norge. Inspelningen är hämtad ur Fågelsångsnatten 2025. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radio Play. Fågelsångsnatten är en åtta timmar lång direktsändning om och med fågelsång från fem platser i Sverige och en i Norge! 2025 sändes den natten till lördag 17 maj. En blåsig natt på sina håll, men fåglarna sjöng på alla platserna.Denna inspelning är den timme som hördes i P1 mellan klockan 04.02 och 05.00, då vi får höra okommenterad fågelsång i tur och ordning från: Lillån/Storån i norra Uppland, Strömbäck-Kont i Västerbotten, Tisnes utanför Tromsö i Nordnorge, Bingsmarken nära Smygehuk i Skåne, Nåsten utanför Uppsala och fågelsjön Tåkern i Östergötland. Mikrofonerna på bilden är placerade vid Tåkern.Livemix och slutmix: Magnus Larsson.Övriga tekniker, i studio och ute på fältet: Eskil Lövström, Christian Jangegård, Andreas Tosting, Martin Tuomolin, Lisa Hjernestam, Kristoffer Hjälmberg och Anders Larsen.Det är programledare Mats Ottosson som guidar i slutet av inspelningen.Vill du höra hela sändningen av Fågelsångsnatten 2025 finns den, i två delar, att lyssna på här och här. Eller sök upp den i appen Sveriges Radio Play.

Åtta timmars radio om och med fågelsång. Direktsänt från Tåkern, Bingsmarken, Lillån & Storån, Strömbäck-Kont, Nåsten och Tromsö. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radio Play. Fågelsångsnatten är här igen. För sjätte året i rad fångar mikrofonerna upp fågelröster från flera olika platser i Sverige. Nytt för i år är även en plats i Norge.Naturmorgons programledare, reportrar och fågelexperter guidar i den fågelsång som hörs just denna majnatt. Men det blir också långa stunder med bara fågelsång. Timmen mellan klockan fyra och fem viks helt åt fågelsång utan prat.Programledarna Mats Ottosson och Jenny Berntson Djurvall håller samman maratonsändningen från en utestudio som i år är placerat vid den klassiska fågelsjön Tåkern i Östergötland.Dessutom sänds fågelsång direkt från Bingsmarken utanför Smygehuk i Skåne, Lillån och Storån vid Tinäset på gränsen mellan Västmanland och Uppland, Strömbäck-Kont utanför Umeå i Västerbotten, Nåsten i Uppland och Straumsbukta och Tisnes utanför Tromsö i Norge.Här finns del två av natten: Från 04.02 till 07.55.De fyra arenorna + de två extramikrofonernaProgramledarna Mats Ottosson och Jenny Berntson Djurvall har sin utestudio vid fågelsjön Tåkern i Östergötland. Med lite tur kommer lyssnarna redan under de mörka timmarna kunna höra flera arter beckasiner, småfläckig sumphöna och trumpetande tranor därifrån. Det finns chans både på roliga, mystiska fågelläten i mörkret, och sedan en vacker fågelkör när gryningen nalkas.Vid Bingsmarken utanför Smygehuk i Skåne lyssnar reporter Lisa Henkow och fågelprofessor Susanne Åkesson efter sånglärka och kärrsångare. De har även chans på till exempel hämpling, kattuggla, vattenrall och näktergal.Över 100 mil längre norrut (fågelvägen) njuter reporter Joacim Lindwall och fågelexpert Lars Edenius av morkullor och trastar i Strömbäck-Kont utanför Umeå. De hoppas även på enkelbeckasin, dvärgmås, skrattmås, grönbena, gluttsnäppa och sångsvan med flera.Reporter Lena Näslund, fågelexpert Didrik Vanhoenacker och ljudtekniker Andreas Tosting paddlar fram genom natten i Storån och Lillån vid Tinäset, på gränsen mellan Uppland och Västmanland. Det finns myrmark och gammal barrskog innanför strandkanten och trion tror på sångsvan, tranor, storlom, hackspettar, ugglor, orrar, korp och korsnäbbar.I Straumsbukta utanför Tromsö i Nordnorge går solen knappt ner den här natten. Här spelar kustens och havets fåglar upp i en miljö som är helt ny för Fågelsångsnatten.Och vid de mäktiga lindarna i Kalvnäsets naturreservat i Uppland fångar mikrofonerna upp en försommarkör med trastar, hackspettar och sångare.FågelsånglektionerUnder våren har Mats Ottosson gjort fem nya fågelsånglektioner, om bland annat rovfåglarnas knepiga läten och tips på hur man bäst använder sig av fågelsångsappar i mobilen. Totalt finns nu 48 fågelsånglektioner att lyssna på i podden Livet enligt Naturmorgon.Samlad information på hemsidan och sociala medierAll information om Fågelsångsnatten finns samlad på sverigesradio.se/naturmorgon. Bilder och filmer läggs också upp inför och under natten på facebook och instagram, där vi heter Naturmorgon.Programledare: Jenny Berntson Djurvall och Mats OttossonReportrar: Lisa Henkow, Joacim Lindwall, Lena Näslund.Experter: Susanne Åkesson, Didrik Vanhoenacker, Lars EdeniusDigital redaktör: Karin GyllenklevProducenter: Roger Bengtsson och Helena SöderlundhTekniker: Martin Tuomolin, Magnus Larsson, Kristoffer Hjälmberg, Lisa Hjernestam, Andreas Tosting, Christian Jangegård, Eskil Lövström, Anders Larsen.

Åtta timmars radio om och med fågelsång. Direktsänt från Tåkern, Bingsmarken, Lillån & Storån, Strömbäck-Kont, Nåsten och Tromsö. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radio Play. Fågelsångsnatten är här igen. För sjätte året i rad fångar mikrofonerna upp fågelröster från flera olika platser i Sverige. Nytt för i år är även en plats i Norge.Naturmorgons programledare, reportrar och fågelexperter guidar i den fågelsång som hörs just denna majnatt. Men det blir också långa stunder med bara fågelsång. Timmen mellan klockan fyra och fem viks helt åt fågelsång utan prat.Programledarna Mats Ottosson och Jenny Berntson Djurvall håller samman maratonsändningen från en utestudio som i år är placerat vid den klassiska fågelsjön Tåkern i Östergötland.Dessutom sänds fågelsång direkt från Bingsmarken utanför Smygehuk i Skåne, Lillån och Storån vid Tinäset på gränsen mellan Västmanland och Uppland, Strömbäck-Kont utanför Umeå i Västerbotten, Nåsten i Uppland och Straumsbukta och Tisnes utanför Tromsö i Norge.Här finns del ett av natten: Från 00.02 till 04.00.De fyra arenorna + de två extramikrofonernaProgramledarna Mats Ottosson och Jenny Berntson Djurvall har sin utestudio vid fågelsjön Tåkern i Östergötland. Med lite tur kommer lyssnarna redan under de mörka timmarna kunna höra flera arter beckasiner, småfläckig sumphöna och trumpetande tranor därifrån. Det finns chans både på roliga, mystiska fågelläten i mörkret, och sedan en vacker fågelkör när gryningen nalkas.Vid Bingsmarken utanför Smygehuk i Skåne lyssnar reporter Lisa Henkow och fågelprofessor Susanne Åkesson efter sånglärka och kärrsångare. De har även chans på till exempel hämpling, kattuggla, vattenrall och näktergal.Över 100 mil längre norrut (fågelvägen) njuter reporter Joacim Lindwall och fågelexpert Lars Edenius av morkullor och trastar i Strömbäck-Kont utanför Umeå. De hoppas även på enkelbeckasin, dvärgmås, skrattmås, grönbena, gluttsnäppa och sångsvan med flera.Reporter Lena Näslund, fågelexpert Didrik Vanhoenacker och ljudtekniker Andreas Tosting paddlar fram genom natten i Storån och Lillån vid Tinäset, på gränsen mellan Uppland och Västmanland. Det finns myrmark och gammal barrskog innanför strandkanten och trion tror på sångsvan, tranor, storlom, hackspettar, ugglor, orrar, korp och korsnäbbar.I Straumsbukta utanför Tromsö i Nordnorge går solen knappt ner den här natten. Här spelar kustens och havets fåglar upp i en miljö som är helt ny för Fågelsångsnatten.Till en liten vattensamling i skogsområdet Nåsten utanför Uppsala söker sig både däggdjur och fåglar om natten för att dricka. Här finns förhoppningar om att få komma en enstaka lövsångare, stjärtmes eller taltrast riktigt nära. FågelsånglektionerUnder våren har Mats Ottosson gjort fem nya fågelsånglektioner, om bland annat rovfåglarnas knepiga läten och tips på hur man bäst använder sig av fågelsångsappar i mobilen. Totalt finns nu 48 fågelsånglektioner att lyssna på i podden Livet enligt Naturmorgon.Samlad information på hemsidan och sociala medierAll information om Fågelsångsnatten finns samlad på sverigesradio.se/naturmorgon. Bilder och filmer läggs också upp inför och under natten på facebook och instagram, där vi heter Naturmorgon.Programledare: Jenny Berntson Djurvall och Mats OttossonReportrar: Lisa Henkow, Joacim Lindwall, Lena Näslund.Experter: Susanne Åkesson, Didrik Vanhoenacker, Lars EdeniusDigital redaktör: Karin GyllenklevProducenter: Roger Bengtsson och Helena SöderlundhTekniker: Martin Tuomolin, Magnus Larsson, Kristoffer Hjälmberg, Lisa Hjernestam, Andreas Tosting, Christian Jangegård, Eskil Lövström, Anders Larsen.

Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, @mediasres

Il-korrispondent tal-SBS f'Malta, Leonard Callus jirrapporta dwar ir-reazzjonijiet tal-mexxejja Maltin wara l-funernal tal-Papa Frangisku, li fakkruh b'sens ta' emozzjoni u gratitudni, bħala l-Papa tan-Nies.

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Gäster: Carin Sollenberg, Emma-Lee Andersson, Jens Falk, Behrad Rouzbeh, Jonathan Rollins STORY HOTEL Alla lyssnare får 30% rabatt på standard rate: Gå in på hyatt.com och välj destination, Stockholm eller Malmö. Ange ”Corporate or Group Code”: 165414 (Giltig fram till 31 augusti 2025) Patrons får 50% rabatt med en kod som du hittar här: https://www.patreon.com/posts/story-hotel-50-94462700?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link För 90SEK/mån får du 5 avsnitt i veckan: 4 Vanliga AMK MORGON + AMK FREDAG med Isak Wahlberg Se till att bli Patron via webben och inte direkt i iPhones Patreon-app för att undvika Apples extraavgifter: Öppna istället din browser och gå till www.patreon.com/amkmorgon Relevanta länkar: …Lillördag https://sv.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lill%C3%B6rdag …Panamakanalen https://www.google.com/maps/place/Panamakanalen/@9.143654,-80.0588961,10z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m6!3m5!1s0x8fab5f4b31cd492d:0xd9dd11e7a14a0960!8m2!3d9.1223491!4d-79.7311627!16zL20vMDY2cmw?entry=ttu&g_ep=EgoyMDI1MDQwNi4wIKXMDSoJLDEwMjExNDU1SAFQAw%3D%3D https://cdn.britannica.com/73/75873-050-D9FF99F9/tugboat-one-ship-locks-Panama-Canal.jpg https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/91/Panama_Canal_Map_EN.png …Kinas sol https://english.news.cn/20250120/1d4e392ccaef48f29e8e9cdd0f9360c5/c.html …Kinesiska memen https://x.com/gaborgurbacs/status/1909348105675211192?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw%7Ctwcamp%5Etweetembed%7Ctwterm%5E1909348105675211192%7Ctwgr%5Ed3f6763da0c540a8e22754f06c19576f8a8fac16%7Ctwcon%5Es1_&ref_url=https%3A%2F%2Ffuturism.com%2Fchina-mocking-ai-video-americans-sweatshop …de 15 hjälparbetarna https://www.aftonbladet.se/nyheter/a/Jb4A7b/fn-15-hjalparbetare-dodade-av-israelisk-militar-i-gaza …Trumps Simpsonsdöd https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/etimes/trending/did-the-simpsons-predict-donald-trumps-death-on-april-12-heres-the-truth-behind-the-viral-video/articleshow/119628960.cms …Trumps militärparad https://edition.cnn.com/2025/04/07/politics/trump-plans-military-parade-washington/index.html …Trump och Musk https://www.svt.se/nyheter/utrikes/storbrak-i-trumps-inre-krets …Cybertruck https://www.tesla.com/cybertruck …Emma-Lees hunds ras https://www.akc.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/Brussels-Griffon-sitting-outdoors.jpg …dog surgery-klippet https://www.facebook.com/reel/1682314192410197 Låtarna som spelades var: Dog Eat Dog - AC/DC White Room - Cream Alla låtar finns i AMK Morgons spellista här: https://open.spotify.com/user/amk.morgon/playlist/6V9bgWnHJMh9c4iVHncF9j?si=so0WKn7sSpyufjg3olHYmg Stötta oss gärna på Swish, varje litet bidrag uppskattas enormt! 123 646 2006

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Lill, Felix www.deutschlandfunk.de, Campus & Karriere

Esri Ireland, the market leader in Geographic Information Systems (GIS), has announced that its digital mapping system enabled Aurum Exploration Services to accelerate the survey of soil samples across almost 23,000km2 in Ireland. The extensive survey was carried out as part of the Tellus Programme. Led by Geological Survey Ireland and funded by the Department of the Environment, Climate and Communications, the Tellus Programme aims to improve the future management of the environment by building a deeper knowledge of Ireland's soil, rocks, and water. Esri's ArcGIS technology streamlined workflows for Aurum Exploration, enabling it to deliver the ambitious project in just over one year. The technology replaced the traditional paper-based survey process with innovative digital data capture. The paper-based process was time-consuming with a complex data collection method, taking the Tellus Programme team nine years to reach the halfway milestone on the project. Using the technology, Aurum Exploration's sampling teams were able to collect, record, and share real-time data on soil samples -ranging from location to land usage and soil characteristics - wherever they were working in the field. Apps could be used even when offline, which was vital for those working in remote locations. Team leaders were able to speedily assign tasks, manage daily workloads, and monitor the project's progress, while programme managers could oversee the data collection process and share project metrics. Health and safety were boosted for employees as each team's location was visible in near real-time. The platform also facilitated rigorous quality control checks, greatly enhancing the accuracy and integrity of soil sample data. Moreover, reports could be generated on-demand, saving time for teams internally. In turn, these efficiencies contributed to an estimated saving of 120 days per year, and a reduction in overall operational costs of around €40,000 annually for the project. Judith Mather, Project Manager, Tellus Programme, Aurum Exploration said: "Having a robust and efficient digital system greatly assisted us to cover more ground in a shorter time, and oversight of the national programme really improved. ArcGIS Dashboards gave our directors and client an accurate and visual real-time overview of what was going on, on a national scale, which is what they needed. In addition, the improvement in data quality was a real testament to the success of ArcGIS applications." Schalk van Lill, Customer Success Manager, Esri Ireland said: "Our ArcGIS platform has been transformative for the Tellus Programme, and we were delighted to work closely with Aurum Exploration as the team delivered on this vital nationwide project. Reliable data was captured electronically out in the field, reducing the risk of human error and other data collection inconsistencies, even while working remotely. This also boosted productivity, streamlined operations, and improved collaboration among teams for Aurum Exploration. This important project is benefitting our environment now and into the future." See more stories here. More about Irish Tech News Irish Tech News are Ireland's No. 1 Online Tech Publication and often Ireland's No.1 Tech Podcast too. You can find hundreds of fantastic previous episodes and subscribe using whatever platform you like via our Anchor.fm page here: https://anchor.fm/irish-tech-news If you'd like to be featured in an upcoming Podcast email us at Simon@IrishTechNews.ie now to discuss. Irish Tech News have a range of services available to help promote your business. Why not drop us a line at Info@IrishTechNews.ie now to find out more about how we can help you reach our audience. You can also find and follow us on Twitter, LinkedIn, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and Snapchat.

Från Kärleksbombningen i avsnitt 417 av Sporthuset hämtar vi veckans arkivklipp. I podden medverkar Lasse `Granqvist, Tommy Åström och Janne Blomqvist och ämnet är den tidigare F1-föraren Stefan "lill-Lövis" Johansson. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hello Rank Squad!It's time for Champions League Takeaway, your late night delivery following the action - following the first legs of the Round of 16, where we saw a lot of favourites come out on top, but perhaps not in the way we expected! Wednesday night saw Bayern's 3-0 demolition of Leverkusen - did Xabi Alonso overthink this one? - as well as Liverpool dropping an all-timer of a smash and grab job against PSG, where Alisson Becker gave a masterclass in the Redmen net. Barcelona also showed their versatility by beating Benfica with 10 men, whilst Inter were incredibly mature (and kept ANOTHER clean sheet) in a fairly routine 2-0 win over Feyenoord at De Kuip. In Part Two we move onto Tuesday's action, starting with a topsy-turvy Madrid derby that saw three wondergoals - and Real Madrid taking a narrow 2-1 advantage over city rivals Atletico Madrid - thanks to some magical footwork from Brahim Diaz. We also chat through Arsenal's demolition of PSG where the Gunners reloaded the ammunition tank to score seven after back-to-back blanks; Aston Villa's 3-1 win over Club Brugge where they were perhaps a little fortunate the scoreline looks so pleasant; and Dortmund dropping off to allow Lille to fight back for a 1-1 draw at the Westfalenstadion. It's Ranks! And remember, if you'd like more from the Rank Squad, including extra podcasts every Monday and Friday (including our weekly Postbox taking a look at the whole weekend of football) and access to our brilliant Discord community, then why not join us here on Patreon?

In today's Sloppy Seconds, Danny and Billy are joined by Season 6 Drag Race UK Queen, Lill! They talk all things Drag Race and Sam has a game called "Big Or Lill"!Want to be a Gossip Goddess or a Question Queen and win a badge?Get involved…Send us your crazy and dirty confessions! They could be your own saucy tales or the goss you have on your friends! Send them in here: https://forms.gle/5uwNGBb9QAkgXKKz5 or you can even get in touch via Whatsapp! Texts/ voice notes, go wild! If you wish to remain anon, just say. We will never out you and can even disguise your voice. Whatsapp the show: https://wa.me/message/NJKXUPHEB7AAI1 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.