Podcasts about lysergic

Nuestra oxidada marmita rebosa novedades entre las que encontramos adelantos de los próximos discos de los franceses The Scaners, los suizos The Hillbilly Moon Explosion o los holandeses The Mocks. Un episodio en donde los sonidos alienígenas de E.T. Explore Me comparten espacio con The Fuzztones o The Cramps.Playlist;THE SCANERS “Zero gravity” (adelanto del álbum “III”)E.T. EXPLORE ME “Boots” (Drug me, 2024)MARCEL BONTEMPI “Go down” (single, 2023)AUTOMATIC CITY “Downbound train” (Hum drum, 2023)Versión y Original; CHUCK BERRY “Downbound train” (1956)THE MOCKS “Do me good” (adelanto del álbum “Do you want me too?)THE MIKE BELL CARTER “Ain’t no high” (single, 2024)THE MOURNING AFTER “Lately” (single 2024)THE SMOGGERS “She’s wicked”THE FUZZTONES “1-2-5” (Lysergic emanations, 1985)JIM JONES ALLSTARS “Troglodyte” (Ain’t no peril, 2023)THE HILLBILLY MOON EXPLOSION “Sometimes late at night” (Back in time, 2024)GENERADOR “Yo adoro a Lux Interior” (Grandes éxitos de extrarradio, 2024)THE CRAMPS “Journey to the center of a girl” (Stay sick!, 1989)Escuchar audio

Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to broklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— You broke my heart (And the windows on my car) What was all that for? Now you you've started a holy war I've got scars on my arms I might love them a little more I guess you are what you are After all—you're a star I'm bat shit crazy, I'm Blind, so blind and now I'm Hiding in a life I decided I was mine I tried to find you Tried to find the answer Tried to find the time, And now I'm fighting suicide against denial —I still really love your smile I had to know—and so I had to ask; both the ocean, and The Instagram Algorithm—about Dillon Francis—and, to my luck and great dispar, was swiftly answered. Now I could crawl back into my cave of obscurity and begin the elemental essentials to gather and burn all that was left of everything I had written about the the man himself; needing of course to steer clear of nothing now but love—or a lack thereof, as it were. Now I understood that the feelings and emotions tied up in this man were indeed true, beyond real in the sense that I couldn't hold back tears, but with some gentle motion I could sway them into music; needing to shed my skin and escape my nightmarish surroundings, I would need more than a prayer—the universe had been calling me to fast; now I would answer in the only way I could, the fresh and awestruck pain of heartbreak I had knowingly caused myself, the only strain to conquer. I loved him. The running was over with, and the hiding was done for— I had backed myself into a corner; a comfortable wall to curl up in non existence, meanwhile, nothing—because if I could figure that If I did not see it for myself or could not otherwise randomly fathom to imagine, it did not exist, or it could not be. Who are you, To evoke emotion A notation of focus, Awoke in the moment to know, Vote for a hope, Or a rope, just to— —hangglide. What's two hands, What's two fists look like to you? What's two feet, what's two wrists to you—? What's two lips, two blue eyes; In an instant What's to listen to the the tune of you again? “Please Text Back” What is this? Another emotion, Another world we opened, A parallel dimension, Just beside the hell we live in— Exists all of this I'd put it into Ableton, if I was able to; The way you make me move, And what I feel for you— Appealing, if you're real, down to the roots And reel-to-real I feel so stupid— She'll—be everything I asked for him She is—the one I called for hoping She was—my dream inside a dream once; Now, digging my own grave up Just to prove my luck, or something So, to us, it's only justice, undone On the walk to Eden, It was all of us; I reap what I've sown; Nothing comes of nothing Give to get, And live to eat, The answer's “hungry”, If you're asking But no one's asking, ‘And Dillon Francis's is handsome, He had to have known that—‘ I sat at the alter, my ocean And read to her, poetry I wonder for nothing, And want even less, no discussions— Percussion in repercussions, Patterns of claps and hats, happen to manage the panic; Perhaps if I laughed a little, Or loved a little, I'd have sung more loudly as they hung me, From the bungalow windowsill; It's silly how I'd kill myself again for never listening And never listening And never listening —we never kissed, but always met at intersections, when needed; Break bread for breakfast, or brunch, with the Goddess and her Demons Never had I saw or wanted a flying saucer— until I saw two of them, off in the distance With no one on them, But God, I'm honest and stopped it all at once, Just to turn on and tune in, and now I'm the April Fool— It was just an illusion; Another simplistic collision of infinite What was your name again? I'll have to ask my ex— —husband… Cause one time, someone loved me. As it turned out, I held more feelings for the man than I had previously thought, or had motionlessly been in absolute denial of for quite some time; there wasn't another option or subject of distraction—I had been stuck on Dillon Francis, or at least the thought of him, even with the startling lack thereof. I needed to love, but it seemed to be in short supply, at least, for me, no matter where I went or what I did there. Still, while The Instagram Algorithm beckoned me to believe one thing, my intuition conditioned me to comprehend another—there was something deeper within myself and greater outwardly looming over the prénsense of this innate attraction—and though it had all started innocently, it had cascaded and begun to collapse into a avalanche of unhandled business and forgotten circumstances— I was shaken and needed to be restrung in some way that would hold me together, until the easy way out became the hard way; perhaps if I could project into my reality what it was that nature had foretold, I could extend my being beyond that of which seemed to be an end. At least it had been done again, in the severance of the flow of one love, there had to come another—as it's been done in generations through every genre time and time before whichever one this was, mankind had something down to an exact science for once; to withdraw the essence of love from the source of which it comes, leaving one only damaged enough to murmur or hum the would-be some-part, of some-song—if not to be sung, at least strummed out, or at the very least, written as record. Now, though I had lost nearly all ambition, I was entirely filled with enough neglect to become the apathetic, dark and untouchable alchemist I always was—reality back in touch. The final judgement was: I loved Dillon as much as I had loved Sonny, but in another way entirely—so much so, that overall, his happiness above anything to happen was what I wanted—and though I felt I had been ‘Kayla Lauren'd' once more, there was a deeper sense of doubt that with enough creativity, would bring about a world of its own—as if the world that had been created in the infinite “if” of Dillon Francis was large enough by itself to consume an idle mind with even the slightest of combustion; His eyes would drive me wild—and all that I dared to remember of the time we would spend together, is myself becoming lost in them. ‘They are green sometimes'. I loved the grey streaking in his beard, reminding me of what I was, rather than what I had become in the midsts of it—my soul just as ancient as all the love it was made of—and now I had done it not once, but always; decided I could love anything about any one and multiply that into an infinite, undying and unconditional love—which it already was. I'm sorry, God; Or whoever's watching All I wanted was love With the one who would want me; Now I'm a ghost, although something is haunting me Wanted my glass house, but can't throw a rock in it Off in a rocket ship; What was the cost of it? Nod off on a trip, dripping lips on the window A kiss, just an instant to lick up a hit of the acid I missed wishing just as simplisticly To live again I'd end it if, The reason weren't so stupid It's not you, I've just been used too much to do this Overruled: This never happened So I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to love him, only Cause I had to love myself, for a moment The door was open, I went walking in, Then closed it; Only now I'm here alone— At least I own it And I only wanted Love From someone who wanted To love me And I only wanted a hug; But I guess I kind of got it If you want, you know I'll drop it, like the rock fell from my pocket I forgot which one it was I fell in love with, After all, I'm only nothing “It was nothing” It was fun It was another father, son and brother; Oh, no wonder— Life is so wonderful Falling in love with the digital runoff Of someone with all of it Everything I ever wanted Everything I was, and wasn't Just to front the cost, Just never good enough To come of One, again All I wanted was love From the one who wanted to love me; Now all I got is— A closet full of skeletons, A cause of death, And a hot topic, If this is Martyrdom ‘This is what happens when you dare to dream, then stop believing in it; you become caught between worlds in the catastrophic maelstrom between the world of the living, and the shattered reality you once called your dream' now I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a hot shower; a place to call home—I was so far stretched out beyond my comfort zone that again the thought of an instant means to an end became again, a pressing and dire need— I had only scratched the surface here and there and never had begun to break the ice—but anything I had said or done now may as well have been inscribed in stone, everything was temporary, but just fully so, it was also permanent. The looming answer was truly, that either way, I was right—either the slip in my stream of consciousness with Dillon had vanished as he began to keep the company of another more presently—just as in my early premonitions with Sonny had foretold of Kayla Lauren not too long before I would become aware of her—that my dream of Dillon in the presiding weeks accompanied by a dazzling readhead, the inspiration for “Chelsea, Chelsea!” Whispered a daunting truth; that as I suspected, anything or anyone I cared to love would be taken from me promptly; and though in the months since the literal tripping and falling into love with such a character, I had tirelessly worked to remove the romanticism and passion that had pent up within, pushing down and toiling away with the notion of a reality where, after all, my King to be had been all along, Dillon Francis. Though with a vital and vivid sense of intuition I had seen it all, I presumed it was nothing more than a flash of whimsical and innocent fantasy, admirable to those with an eye for love; a spark for my creation, which had been diminished—or so I thought. I couldn't help but feel a fool, and baffled myself that indeed, I was in tears—because of Dillon Francis. After nearly months of tearless apathy, I had begun to think myself immune to emotion or feeling—surrounded by a slew of reflections and past companions, I had begun to again lose myself to the motion of too much carelessness, my own needs neglected from lack of finances—and seemingly excommunicated from American Society; I began to fall violently out of love with Sonny, as the universe spun me into a web where I was the fly, and the spider tying me was the spitting image of the damningly handsome once-Apple of my eye; not that I had actually lost any of the feeling for him—but, that the feeling itself had changed dramatically from a writhing passion, to a fury tinged with the blood and sweat of sacrifice in exchange for nothing, and the bitterness of genetic competition—Kayla Lauren no longer taking the brunt of my anger, but falling into irrelevance, Sonny himself becoming the poster child for everything I stood to dismiss, in music, and in general— if I were to convict that I hated him, it would only mean stagnancy, in that I still hated myself; however, strikingly, it was not so—i had begun to love myself quite so, that what I hated was the toxic world where all the men I so admired and desired thrived. Sifting through slides of the lives I wanted mine to mimick, a smile was summoned from under the rock I lived in; hiding from any of the repercussions I may have built to arrive just in time to dull my shine if I became too rampantly outward with my intentions—which, by now, were simple, at best—“at best” being limited again, only by what I could see and know. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to broklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— You broke my heart (And the windows on my car) What was all that for? Now you you've started a holy war I've got scars on my arms I might love them a little more I guess you are what you are After all—you're a star I'm bat shit crazy, I'm Blind, so blind and now I'm Hiding in a life I decided I was mine I tried to find you Tried to find the answer Tried to find the time, And now I'm fighting suicide against denial —I still really love your smile I had to know—and so I had to ask; both the ocean, and The Instagram Algorithm—about Dillon Francis—and, to my luck and great dispar, was swiftly answered. Now I could crawl back into my cave of obscurity and begin the elemental essentials to gather and burn all that was left of everything I had written about the the man himself; needing of course to steer clear of nothing now but love—or a lack thereof, as it were. Now I understood that the feelings and emotions tied up in this man were indeed true, beyond real in the sense that I couldn't hold back tears, but with some gentle motion I could sway them into music; needing to shed my skin and escape my nightmarish surroundings, I would need more than a prayer—the universe had been calling me to fast; now I would answer in the only way I could, the fresh and awestruck pain of heartbreak I had knowingly caused myself, the only strain to conquer. I loved him. The running was over with, and the hiding was done for— I had backed myself into a corner; a comfortable wall to curl up in non existence, meanwhile, nothing—because if I could figure that If I did not see it for myself or could not otherwise randomly fathom to imagine, it did not exist, or it could not be. Who are you, To evoke emotion A notation of focus, Awoke in the moment to know, Vote for a hope, Or a rope, just to— —hangglide. What's two hands, What's two fists look like to you? What's two feet, what's two wrists to you—? What's two lips, two blue eyes; In an instant What's to listen to the the tune of you again? “Please Text Back” What is this? Another emotion, Another world we opened, A parallel dimension, Just beside the hell we live in— Exists all of this I'd put it into Ableton, if I was able to; The way you make me move, And what I feel for you— Appealing, if you're real, down to the roots And reel-to-real I feel so stupid— She'll—be everything I asked for him She is—the one I called for hoping She was—my dream inside a dream once; Now, digging my own grave up Just to prove my luck, or something So, to us, it's only justice, undone On the walk to Eden, It was all of us; I reap what I've sown; Nothing comes of nothing Give to get, And live to eat, The answer's “hungry”, If you're asking But no one's asking, ‘And Dillon Francis's is handsome, He had to have known that—‘ I sat at the alter, my ocean And read to her, poetry I wonder for nothing, And want even less, no discussions— Percussion in repercussions, Patterns of claps and hats, happen to manage the panic; Perhaps if I laughed a little, Or loved a little, I'd have sung more loudly as they hung me, From the bungalow windowsill; It's silly how I'd kill myself again for never listening And never listening And never listening —we never kissed, but always met at intersections, when needed; Break bread for breakfast, or brunch, with the Goddess and her Demons Never had I saw or wanted a flying saucer— until I saw two of them, off in the distance With no one on them, But God, I'm honest and stopped it all at once, Just to turn on and tune in, and now I'm the April Fool— It was just an illusion; Another simplistic collision of infinite What was your name again? I'll have to ask my ex— —husband… Cause one time, someone loved me. As it turned out, I held more feelings for the man than I had previously thought, or had motionlessly been in absolute denial of for quite some time; there wasn't another option or subject of distraction—I had been stuck on Dillon Francis, or at least the thought of him, even with the startling lack thereof. I needed to love, but it seemed to be in short supply, at least, for me, no matter where I went or what I did there. Still, while The Instagram Algorithm beckoned me to believe one thing, my intuition conditioned me to comprehend another—there was something deeper within myself and greater outwardly looming over the prénsense of this innate attraction—and though it had all started innocently, it had cascaded and begun to collapse into a avalanche of unhandled business and forgotten circumstances— I was shaken and needed to be restrung in some way that would hold me together, until the easy way out became the hard way; perhaps if I could project into my reality what it was that nature had foretold, I could extend my being beyond that of which seemed to be an end. At least it had been done again, in the severance of the flow of one love, there had to come another—as it's been done in generations through every genre time and time before whichever one this was, mankind had something down to an exact science for once; to withdraw the essence of love from the source of which it comes, leaving one only damaged enough to murmur or hum the would-be some-part, of some-song—if not to be sung, at least strummed out, or at the very least, written as record. Now, though I had lost nearly all ambition, I was entirely filled with enough neglect to become the apathetic, dark and untouchable alchemist I always was—reality back in touch. The final judgement was: I loved Dillon as much as I had loved Sonny, but in another way entirely—so much so, that overall, his happiness above anything to happen was what I wanted—and though I felt I had been ‘Kayla Lauren'd' once more, there was a deeper sense of doubt that with enough creativity, would bring about a world of its own—as if the world that had been created in the infinite “if” of Dillon Francis was large enough by itself to consume an idle mind with even the slightest of combustion; His eyes would drive me wild—and all that I dared to remember of the time we would spend together, is myself becoming lost in them. ‘They are green sometimes'. I loved the grey streaking in his beard, reminding me of what I was, rather than what I had become in the midsts of it—my soul just as ancient as all the love it was made of—and now I had done it not once, but always; decided I could love anything about any one and multiply that into an infinite, undying and unconditional love—which it already was. I'm sorry, God; Or whoever's watching All I wanted was love With the one who would want me; Now I'm a ghost, although something is haunting me Wanted my glass house, but can't throw a rock in it Off in a rocket ship; What was the cost of it? Nod off on a trip, dripping lips on the window A kiss, just an instant to lick up a hit of the acid I missed wishing just as simplisticly To live again I'd end it if, The reason weren't so stupid It's not you, I've just been used too much to do this Overruled: This never happened So I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to love him, only Cause I had to love myself, for a moment The door was open, I went walking in, Then closed it; Only now I'm here alone— At least I own it And I only wanted Love From someone who wanted To love me And I only wanted a hug; But I guess I kind of got it If you want, you know I'll drop it, like the rock fell from my pocket I forgot which one it was I fell in love with, After all, I'm only nothing “It was nothing” It was fun It was another father, son and brother; Oh, no wonder— Life is so wonderful Falling in love with the digital runoff Of someone with all of it Everything I ever wanted Everything I was, and wasn't Just to front the cost, Just never good enough To come of One, again All I wanted was love From the one who wanted to love me; Now all I got is— A closet full of skeletons, A cause of death, And a hot topic, If this is Martyrdom ‘This is what happens when you dare to dream, then stop believing in it; you become caught between worlds in the catastrophic maelstrom between the world of the living, and the shattered reality you once called your dream' now I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a hot shower; a place to call home—I was so far stretched out beyond my comfort zone that again the thought of an instant means to an end became again, a pressing and dire need— I had only scratched the surface here and there and never had begun to break the ice—but anything I had said or done now may as well have been inscribed in stone, everything was temporary, but just fully so, it was also permanent. The looming answer was truly, that either way, I was right—either the slip in my stream of consciousness with Dillon had vanished as he began to keep the company of another more presently—just as in my early premonitions with Sonny had foretold of Kayla Lauren not too long before I would become aware of her—that my dream of Dillon in the presiding weeks accompanied by a dazzling readhead, the inspiration for “Chelsea, Chelsea!” Whispered a daunting truth; that as I suspected, anything or anyone I cared to love would be taken from me promptly; and though in the months since the literal tripping and falling into love with such a character, I had tirelessly worked to remove the romanticism and passion that had pent up within, pushing down and toiling away with the notion of a reality where, after all, my King to be had been all along, Dillon Francis. Though with a vital and vivid sense of intuition I had seen it all, I presumed it was nothing more than a flash of whimsical and innocent fantasy, admirable to those with an eye for love; a spark for my creation, which had been diminished—or so I thought. I couldn't help but feel a fool, and baffled myself that indeed, I was in tears—because of Dillon Francis. After nearly months of tearless apathy, I had begun to think myself immune to emotion or feeling—surrounded by a slew of reflections and past companions, I had begun to again lose myself to the motion of too much carelessness, my own needs neglected from lack of finances—and seemingly excommunicated from American Society; I began to fall violently out of love with Sonny, as the universe spun me into a web where I was the fly, and the spider tying me was the spitting image of the damningly handsome once-Apple of my eye; not that I had actually lost any of the feeling for him—but, that the feeling itself had changed dramatically from a writhing passion, to a fury tinged with the blood and sweat of sacrifice in exchange for nothing, and the bitterness of genetic competition—Kayla Lauren no longer taking the brunt of my anger, but falling into irrelevance, Sonny himself becoming the poster child for everything I stood to dismiss, in music, and in general— if I were to convict that I hated him, it would only mean stagnancy, in that I still hated myself; however, strikingly, it was not so—i had begun to love myself quite so, that what I hated was the toxic world where all the men I so admired and desired thrived. Sifting through slides of the lives I wanted mine to mimick, a smile was summoned from under the rock I lived in; hiding from any of the repercussions I may have built to arrive just in time to dull my shine if I became too rampantly outward with my intentions—which, by now, were simple, at best—“at best” being limited again, only by what I could see and know. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to broklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— You broke my heart (And the windows on my car) What was all that for? Now you you've started a holy war I've got scars on my arms I might love them a little more I guess you are what you are After all—you're a star I'm bat shit crazy, I'm Blind, so blind and now I'm Hiding in a life I decided I was mine I tried to find you Tried to find the answer Tried to find the time, And now I'm fighting suicide against denial —I still really love your smile I had to know—and so I had to ask; both the ocean, and The Instagram Algorithm—about Dillon Francis—and, to my luck and great dispar, was swiftly answered. Now I could crawl back into my cave of obscurity and begin the elemental essentials to gather and burn all that was left of everything I had written about the the man himself; needing of course to steer clear of nothing now but love—or a lack thereof, as it were. Now I understood that the feelings and emotions tied up in this man were indeed true, beyond real in the sense that I couldn't hold back tears, but with some gentle motion I could sway them into music; needing to shed my skin and escape my nightmarish surroundings, I would need more than a prayer—the universe had been calling me to fast; now I would answer in the only way I could, the fresh and awestruck pain of heartbreak I had knowingly caused myself, the only strain to conquer. I loved him. The running was over with, and the hiding was done for— I had backed myself into a corner; a comfortable wall to curl up in non existence, meanwhile, nothing—because if I could figure that If I did not see it for myself or could not otherwise randomly fathom to imagine, it did not exist, or it could not be. Who are you, To evoke emotion A notation of focus, Awoke in the moment to know, Vote for a hope, Or a rope, just to— —hangglide. What's two hands, What's two fists look like to you? What's two feet, what's two wrists to you—? What's two lips, two blue eyes; In an instant What's to listen to the the tune of you again? “Please Text Back” What is this? Another emotion, Another world we opened, A parallel dimension, Just beside the hell we live in— Exists all of this I'd put it into Ableton, if I was able to; The way you make me move, And what I feel for you— Appealing, if you're real, down to the roots And reel-to-real I feel so stupid— She'll—be everything I asked for him She is—the one I called for hoping She was—my dream inside a dream once; Now, digging my own grave up Just to prove my luck, or something So, to us, it's only justice, undone On the walk to Eden, It was all of us; I reap what I've sown; Nothing comes of nothing Give to get, And live to eat, The answer's “hungry”, If you're asking But no one's asking, ‘And Dillon Francis's is handsome, He had to have known that—‘ I sat at the alter, my ocean And read to her, poetry I wonder for nothing, And want even less, no discussions— Percussion in repercussions, Patterns of claps and hats, happen to manage the panic; Perhaps if I laughed a little, Or loved a little, I'd have sung more loudly as they hung me, From the bungalow windowsill; It's silly how I'd kill myself again for never listening And never listening And never listening —we never kissed, but always met at intersections, when needed; Break bread for breakfast, or brunch, with the Goddess and her Demons Never had I saw or wanted a flying saucer— until I saw two of them, off in the distance With no one on them, But God, I'm honest and stopped it all at once, Just to turn on and tune in, and now I'm the April Fool— It was just an illusion; Another simplistic collision of infinite What was your name again? I'll have to ask my ex— —husband… Cause one time, someone loved me. As it turned out, I held more feelings for the man than I had previously thought, or had motionlessly been in absolute denial of for quite some time; there wasn't another option or subject of distraction—I had been stuck on Dillon Francis, or at least the thought of him, even with the startling lack thereof. I needed to love, but it seemed to be in short supply, at least, for me, no matter where I went or what I did there. Still, while The Instagram Algorithm beckoned me to believe one thing, my intuition conditioned me to comprehend another—there was something deeper within myself and greater outwardly looming over the prénsense of this innate attraction—and though it had all started innocently, it had cascaded and begun to collapse into a avalanche of unhandled business and forgotten circumstances— I was shaken and needed to be restrung in some way that would hold me together, until the easy way out became the hard way; perhaps if I could project into my reality what it was that nature had foretold, I could extend my being beyond that of which seemed to be an end. At least it had been done again, in the severance of the flow of one love, there had to come another—as it's been done in generations through every genre time and time before whichever one this was, mankind had something down to an exact science for once; to withdraw the essence of love from the source of which it comes, leaving one only damaged enough to murmur or hum the would-be some-part, of some-song—if not to be sung, at least strummed out, or at the very least, written as record. Now, though I had lost nearly all ambition, I was entirely filled with enough neglect to become the apathetic, dark and untouchable alchemist I always was—reality back in touch. The final judgement was: I loved Dillon as much as I had loved Sonny, but in another way entirely—so much so, that overall, his happiness above anything to happen was what I wanted—and though I felt I had been ‘Kayla Lauren'd' once more, there was a deeper sense of doubt that with enough creativity, would bring about a world of its own—as if the world that had been created in the infinite “if” of Dillon Francis was large enough by itself to consume an idle mind with even the slightest of combustion; His eyes would drive me wild—and all that I dared to remember of the time we would spend together, is myself becoming lost in them. ‘They are green sometimes'. I loved the grey streaking in his beard, reminding me of what I was, rather than what I had become in the midsts of it—my soul just as ancient as all the love it was made of—and now I had done it not once, but always; decided I could love anything about any one and multiply that into an infinite, undying and unconditional love—which it already was. I'm sorry, God; Or whoever's watching All I wanted was love With the one who would want me; Now I'm a ghost, although something is haunting me Wanted my glass house, but can't throw a rock in it Off in a rocket ship; What was the cost of it? Nod off on a trip, dripping lips on the window A kiss, just an instant to lick up a hit of the acid I missed wishing just as simplisticly To live again I'd end it if, The reason weren't so stupid It's not you, I've just been used too much to do this Overruled: This never happened So I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to love him, only Cause I had to love myself, for a moment The door was open, I went walking in, Then closed it; Only now I'm here alone— At least I own it And I only wanted Love From someone who wanted To love me And I only wanted a hug; But I guess I kind of got it If you want, you know I'll drop it, like the rock fell from my pocket I forgot which one it was I fell in love with, After all, I'm only nothing “It was nothing” It was fun It was another father, son and brother; Oh, no wonder— Life is so wonderful Falling in love with the digital runoff Of someone with all of it Everything I ever wanted Everything I was, and wasn't Just to front the cost, Just never good enough To come of One, again All I wanted was love From the one who wanted to love me; Now all I got is— A closet full of skeletons, A cause of death, And a hot topic, If this is Martyrdom ‘This is what happens when you dare to dream, then stop believing in it; you become caught between worlds in the catastrophic maelstrom between the world of the living, and the shattered reality you once called your dream' now I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a hot shower; a place to call home—I was so far stretched out beyond my comfort zone that again the thought of an instant means to an end became again, a pressing and dire need— I had only scratched the surface here and there and never had begun to break the ice—but anything I had said or done now may as well have been inscribed in stone, everything was temporary, but just fully so, it was also permanent. The looming answer was truly, that either way, I was right—either the slip in my stream of consciousness with Dillon had vanished as he began to keep the company of another more presently—just as in my early premonitions with Sonny had foretold of Kayla Lauren not too long before I would become aware of her—that my dream of Dillon in the presiding weeks accompanied by a dazzling readhead, the inspiration for “Chelsea, Chelsea!” Whispered a daunting truth; that as I suspected, anything or anyone I cared to love would be taken from me promptly; and though in the months since the literal tripping and falling into love with such a character, I had tirelessly worked to remove the romanticism and passion that had pent up within, pushing down and toiling away with the notion of a reality where, after all, my King to be had been all along, Dillon Francis. Though with a vital and vivid sense of intuition I had seen it all, I presumed it was nothing more than a flash of whimsical and innocent fantasy, admirable to those with an eye for love; a spark for my creation, which had been diminished—or so I thought. I couldn't help but feel a fool, and baffled myself that indeed, I was in tears—because of Dillon Francis. After nearly months of tearless apathy, I had begun to think myself immune to emotion or feeling—surrounded by a slew of reflections and past companions, I had begun to again lose myself to the motion of too much carelessness, my own needs neglected from lack of finances—and seemingly excommunicated from American Society; I began to fall violently out of love with Sonny, as the universe spun me into a web where I was the fly, and the spider tying me was the spitting image of the damningly handsome once-Apple of my eye; not that I had actually lost any of the feeling for him—but, that the feeling itself had changed dramatically from a writhing passion, to a fury tinged with the blood and sweat of sacrifice in exchange for nothing, and the bitterness of genetic competition—Kayla Lauren no longer taking the brunt of my anger, but falling into irrelevance, Sonny himself becoming the poster child for everything I stood to dismiss, in music, and in general— if I were to convict that I hated him, it would only mean stagnancy, in that I still hated myself; however, strikingly, it was not so—i had begun to love myself quite so, that what I hated was the toxic world where all the men I so admired and desired thrived. Sifting through slides of the lives I wanted mine to mimick, a smile was summoned from under the rock I lived in; hiding from any of the repercussions I may have built to arrive just in time to dull my shine if I became too rampantly outward with my intentions—which, by now, were simple, at best—“at best” being limited again, only by what I could see and know. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to broklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— You broke my heart (And the windows on my car) What was all that for? Now you you've started a holy war I've got scars on my arms I might love them a little more I guess you are what you are After all—you're a star I'm bat shit crazy, I'm Blind, so blind and now I'm Hiding in a life I decided I was mine I tried to find you Tried to find the answer Tried to find the time, And now I'm fighting suicide against denial —I still really love your smile I had to know—and so I had to ask; both the ocean, and The Instagram Algorithm—about Dillon Francis—and, to my luck and great dispar, was swiftly answered. Now I could crawl back into my cave of obscurity and begin the elemental essentials to gather and burn all that was left of everything I had written about the the man himself; needing of course to steer clear of nothing now but love—or a lack thereof, as it were. Now I understood that the feelings and emotions tied up in this man were indeed true, beyond real in the sense that I couldn't hold back tears, but with some gentle motion I could sway them into music; needing to shed my skin and escape my nightmarish surroundings, I would need more than a prayer—the universe had been calling me to fast; now I would answer in the only way I could, the fresh and awestruck pain of heartbreak I had knowingly caused myself, the only strain to conquer. I loved him. The running was over with, and the hiding was done for— I had backed myself into a corner; a comfortable wall to curl up in non existence, meanwhile, nothing—because if I could figure that If I did not see it for myself or could not otherwise randomly fathom to imagine, it did not exist, or it could not be. Who are you, To evoke emotion A notation of focus, Awoke in the moment to know, Vote for a hope, Or a rope, just to— —hangglide. What's two hands, What's two fists look like to you? What's two feet, what's two wrists to you—? What's two lips, two blue eyes; In an instant What's to listen to the the tune of you again? “Please Text Back” What is this? Another emotion, Another world we opened, A parallel dimension, Just beside the hell we live in— Exists all of this I'd put it into Ableton, if I was able to; The way you make me move, And what I feel for you— Appealing, if you're real, down to the roots And reel-to-real I feel so stupid— She'll—be everything I asked for him She is—the one I called for hoping She was—my dream inside a dream once; Now, digging my own grave up Just to prove my luck, or something So, to us, it's only justice, undone On the walk to Eden, It was all of us; I reap what I've sown; Nothing comes of nothing Give to get, And live to eat, The answer's “hungry”, If you're asking But no one's asking, ‘And Dillon Francis's is handsome, He had to have known that—‘ I sat at the alter, my ocean And read to her, poetry I wonder for nothing, And want even less, no discussions— Percussion in repercussions, Patterns of claps and hats, happen to manage the panic; Perhaps if I laughed a little, Or loved a little, I'd have sung more loudly as they hung me, From the bungalow windowsill; It's silly how I'd kill myself again for never listening And never listening And never listening —we never kissed, but always met at intersections, when needed; Break bread for breakfast, or brunch, with the Goddess and her Demons Never had I saw or wanted a flying saucer— until I saw two of them, off in the distance With no one on them, But God, I'm honest and stopped it all at once, Just to turn on and tune in, and now I'm the April Fool— It was just an illusion; Another simplistic collision of infinite What was your name again? I'll have to ask my ex— —husband… Cause one time, someone loved me. As it turned out, I held more feelings for the man than I had previously thought, or had motionlessly been in absolute denial of for quite some time; there wasn't another option or subject of distraction—I had been stuck on Dillon Francis, or at least the thought of him, even with the startling lack thereof. I needed to love, but it seemed to be in short supply, at least, for me, no matter where I went or what I did there. Still, while The Instagram Algorithm beckoned me to believe one thing, my intuition conditioned me to comprehend another—there was something deeper within myself and greater outwardly looming over the prénsense of this innate attraction—and though it had all started innocently, it had cascaded and begun to collapse into a avalanche of unhandled business and forgotten circumstances— I was shaken and needed to be restrung in some way that would hold me together, until the easy way out became the hard way; perhaps if I could project into my reality what it was that nature had foretold, I could extend my being beyond that of which seemed to be an end. At least it had been done again, in the severance of the flow of one love, there had to come another—as it's been done in generations through every genre time and time before whichever one this was, mankind had something down to an exact science for once; to withdraw the essence of love from the source of which it comes, leaving one only damaged enough to murmur or hum the would-be some-part, of some-song—if not to be sung, at least strummed out, or at the very least, written as record. Now, though I had lost nearly all ambition, I was entirely filled with enough neglect to become the apathetic, dark and untouchable alchemist I always was—reality back in touch. The final judgement was: I loved Dillon as much as I had loved Sonny, but in another way entirely—so much so, that overall, his happiness above anything to happen was what I wanted—and though I felt I had been ‘Kayla Lauren'd' once more, there was a deeper sense of doubt that with enough creativity, would bring about a world of its own—as if the world that had been created in the infinite “if” of Dillon Francis was large enough by itself to consume an idle mind with even the slightest of combustion; His eyes would drive me wild—and all that I dared to remember of the time we would spend together, is myself becoming lost in them. ‘They are green sometimes'. I loved the grey streaking in his beard, reminding me of what I was, rather than what I had become in the midsts of it—my soul just as ancient as all the love it was made of—and now I had done it not once, but always; decided I could love anything about any one and multiply that into an infinite, undying and unconditional love—which it already was. I'm sorry, God; Or whoever's watching All I wanted was love With the one who would want me; Now I'm a ghost, although something is haunting me Wanted my glass house, but can't throw a rock in it Off in a rocket ship; What was the cost of it? Nod off on a trip, dripping lips on the window A kiss, just an instant to lick up a hit of the acid I missed wishing just as simplisticly To live again I'd end it if, The reason weren't so stupid It's not you, I've just been used too much to do this Overruled: This never happened So I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to laugh I had to love him, only Cause I had to love myself, for a moment The door was open, I went walking in, Then closed it; Only now I'm here alone— At least I own it And I only wanted Love From someone who wanted To love me And I only wanted a hug; But I guess I kind of got it If you want, you know I'll drop it, like the rock fell from my pocket I forgot which one it was I fell in love with, After all, I'm only nothing “It was nothing” It was fun It was another father, son and brother; Oh, no wonder— Life is so wonderful Falling in love with the digital runoff Of someone with all of it Everything I ever wanted Everything I was, and wasn't Just to front the cost, Just never good enough To come of One, again All I wanted was love From the one who wanted to love me; Now all I got is— A closet full of skeletons, A cause of death, And a hot topic, If this is Martyrdom ‘This is what happens when you dare to dream, then stop believing in it; you become caught between worlds in the catastrophic maelstrom between the world of the living, and the shattered reality you once called your dream' now I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a hot shower; a place to call home—I was so far stretched out beyond my comfort zone that again the thought of an instant means to an end became again, a pressing and dire need— I had only scratched the surface here and there and never had begun to break the ice—but anything I had said or done now may as well have been inscribed in stone, everything was temporary, but just fully so, it was also permanent. The looming answer was truly, that either way, I was right—either the slip in my stream of consciousness with Dillon had vanished as he began to keep the company of another more presently—just as in my early premonitions with Sonny had foretold of Kayla Lauren not too long before I would become aware of her—that my dream of Dillon in the presiding weeks accompanied by a dazzling readhead, the inspiration for “Chelsea, Chelsea!” Whispered a daunting truth; that as I suspected, anything or anyone I cared to love would be taken from me promptly; and though in the months since the literal tripping and falling into love with such a character, I had tirelessly worked to remove the romanticism and passion that had pent up within, pushing down and toiling away with the notion of a reality where, after all, my King to be had been all along, Dillon Francis. Though with a vital and vivid sense of intuition I had seen it all, I presumed it was nothing more than a flash of whimsical and innocent fantasy, admirable to those with an eye for love; a spark for my creation, which had been diminished—or so I thought. I couldn't help but feel a fool, and baffled myself that indeed, I was in tears—because of Dillon Francis. After nearly months of tearless apathy, I had begun to think myself immune to emotion or feeling—surrounded by a slew of reflections and past companions, I had begun to again lose myself to the motion of too much carelessness, my own needs neglected from lack of finances—and seemingly excommunicated from American Society; I began to fall violently out of love with Sonny, as the universe spun me into a web where I was the fly, and the spider tying me was the spitting image of the damningly handsome once-Apple of my eye; not that I had actually lost any of the feeling for him—but, that the feeling itself had changed dramatically from a writhing passion, to a fury tinged with the blood and sweat of sacrifice in exchange for nothing, and the bitterness of genetic competition—Kayla Lauren no longer taking the brunt of my anger, but falling into irrelevance, Sonny himself becoming the poster child for everything I stood to dismiss, in music, and in general— if I were to convict that I hated him, it would only mean stagnancy, in that I still hated myself; however, strikingly, it was not so—i had begun to love myself quite so, that what I hated was the toxic world where all the men I so admired and desired thrived. Sifting through slides of the lives I wanted mine to mimick, a smile was summoned from under the rock I lived in; hiding from any of the repercussions I may have built to arrive just in time to dull my shine if I became too rampantly outward with my intentions—which, by now, were simple, at best—“at best” being limited again, only by what I could see and know. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. “Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to brooklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet? Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. V.O. Things I know about myself… I have a dominant personality, but am sexually submissive— I am monogamous. I know what I like — *Drill beat* Die in your sleep (Hope you die in your sleep) Die in your sleep (Betta die in your sleep) I look like a vacation. But k'm still on the clock (psyche) Countin my rocks And holdin my (unh) crotch You better watch your back —hold on your coughs Don't run in no crocs! (No!) I'm offset Now I'm upset l —I love you. Shut up, foo— I don't even love myself. …you told her?! I—yeah… What did she say?! She said “shut up, fool Been. Long time since I missed my exit HEY! [looks over slowly] I LIKE YOUR BALLS. [beat] [thumbs up] How do I not have “throwing elbows?!” BECAUSE YOURE NOT DOING YOUR JOB! Shut up, Jeff COME TO THE DARK SIDE WE HAVE COOKIES Half of Hollywood shows up at Joel's super nerdy Star Wars party The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy Sunni BLU Tweety bird Mickey Mouse Betty boop I woke up like this But a little different I woke up a star Then became a planet I'm a hummingbird, but I don't like flying I might look alright, But I feel like dying I hate waking up at 5 am Just to be the first one at the gym I don't wanna do that shit again— Well, I might as well just stay up! I hate waking up at 5 am Just to take my goddamn medicine, but If I don't I'll feel like shit— Well, I might as well just stay up! I might as well just stay up! This is a recipe for disaster. No, this is a recipe for Skrillex. Oh. This is the recipe for disaster. Thanks, Dillon Francis. FOR WHAT? I remember the moment I became partially deaf. Or at least, in the synesthetic sense. Dillon Francis is delicious Come on let me lick it on a stick Give it to me like a big Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Sample: Willy winks* ITS WILLY WONKA Lol are we still doing the bit where the misspellings are like a, another entirely different dimension? Yeah. Haha. Yeah. —and the chocolate factory “Lick an orange. It tastes like an orange. The strawberries taste like strawberries! The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!” KATT WILLIAMS IS— WILLY WONKA. Oh hell naw! Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even here! Invisibility, The MVP or VIP. It don't mean nothing Don't look at me! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing, Hey, Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, man, I'. The life of the party I do know what you mean! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing I don't know what you mean— Hey, I ain't see nothing, nope Don't look at me I could get some work in; I got 12 minutes, God as my witness I work on my fitness And listen to — Simple Temptations and limited Intervals, Quick algorithmics, And tentative frequencies No more mentions for attention whores Like Kayla Lauren! I promise that's my last one, That bitch is boring, I'm not sorry but I'm soarin on my suorin While you're snoring on my metamorphosis Imm getting sworn in Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even show up to work this week OG VIP ASAP MVP It don't mean nothing I'm just a DJ Don't look at me —- Hey Mr. wedding ring— I'll buy you a drink, You know, Like an old cream soda. Or a float, You can drink in the bucket seat Tell me, Mr. Wedding ring Do you have everything you need? I don't envy anything besides your energy and symphonies, Please Excuse this phony boner, I don't know if you're alone If this is Homer, I'm a poet, though— And not a poser Hey, Do you suppose you know the code For doors that open up; I walk a lonely road, But Frog and Toad are old And told me you'd be there to show me (Whatever) Woah Where am I supposed to go from here I'm nowhere, dear I'm Alice lost in wonderland And all her friends— Even the one in red Who wants her head (Where'd that come from) Yo! It's a real bad acid trip, I can't get a grip on reality Can't get off the grid at random, If you're being tracked By the feds and fandom Woah. I may be one of the greatest writers in history But will you remember me? My ex gets Under my skin with Champion fashion; It's in bad taste But I haven't had my own bathroom In half a millennium Im under persenium arches Sniffing cristanthimymums sampling Arsenio Hall Are you ip yet? I'm still enthralled with this story But yo! (Where's Unaavvi at) I haven't been to a show (Where's the party at) I should be gripping a pole (Where is Cardi at) But it takes all day to get back to the Bronx in the snow! Fuck New York when it's cold And it's always cold in New York When you don't know nobody And your only hobby is hobbling around in the hotel lobby Counting the robbers and gobblins A D Whitney's and Bobby's The ghosts and the zombies Everything hurts But everything heals, with time// Whatever that is; And whatever that means, It's means to an end, if you let it be So let it be But, it persists in lettering me; He becomes me in my sleep, In dreams I think I really need him, or something Or anyone, or anybody Anything, or something Anybody, anybody Excerpt From: “DJ AND CC TAKE HOLLYWOOD” Wait, CC—you're a sex addict?! I'm an everything addict! You know this! I didn't know! —Except pills; I hate pills. What? I've seen you take pills before. Case in point! Why didn't you just tell me? It doesn't exactly come up organically in conversation, Dillon. What?! We talk about sex all the time. Like, in general—but not fórreal! What the fuck! What the fuck?! Whats the difference?! If you have to ask, I feel like you're really not gonna like the answer, dog. — “WorstConversationEver” (Bong rips) Remember your dad's friend Tom? Oh my God. You fucked Tom?! NO! okay, cause— I sucked his dick while I pretended to mow the lawn! What the hell?! —and he still paid me. Whatthefuck. Yeah, fucked up. So who mowed the lawn?! He mowed his own lawn! This is the worst conversation ever. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. SUPACREE buys DIPLO a glass house to replace the one he burned down in a crime of passion.] There, now, you'll stop throwing stones— Huh! AND. Everyone can see when you ugly cry. *humphs* Now, stop it! Is it supacree? Uh? Could be Sunni Blu. Sunni Blu is a dude— Sunni Blu is pretending to be a dude. Oh yeah, huh. Dang. Huh. Well, then. We've gotta consult The Big Book of Dillon Francis. Don't say that like it's some kind of guide book. It is a guidebook. To what?? To Dillon Francis! That's preposterous. Didn't you choose Sonny? Didn't I waste my time writing the great big book of Dillon Francis!? Touché. Might as well do something with it. I got it. THIS IS ENVIRONMENTALLY IRRESPONSIBLE. BURN IT ALL. You're gonna hurt someone's feelings. Yeah, my own. STOP TOUCHING THAT. Wait, where is— Fuck. What? Now I'm “that girl who fell in love with Skrillex” Lol, which one. Hum. The one who wrote a novel about it. Pick your poison. Rum. Not a rum and coke? No, just straight up—you know what? How much is the bottle? Uhhh. Just. [SUPACREE pours the remains of the bottle into a red solo cup.] Ugh. Come on. What! At least you're not “The Black Yoko Ono” How did you even find out about that one. Infinite what the fucks. Now the world's getting mad again, I wrote something damaging; Doors just start slamming at random, And coughing— Sounds of motorists passing, Just scrambling my brain, I'm insane, but at least I have plainly created What may be historical, one day— I've made a whole masterpiece, a symphony that easily outlives me, infinity— My body's just a body Rush a cop just got get off this awful planet; I don't want what comes with poverty and fat, I don't compete with Instagram models, And everyone does that— I'm not a catfish, facts are facts I use my camera just to document the interesting phenomena I happen to walk past; Saw Dillon Francis on a wall, and had to grant the wish he asked— But don't know what it is exactly, I'm just happening, actually— I probably need nap but now Insomniac's been tracking me; I happily allow it; I program myself with beats, So when I finally sleep, I dream in music sequences, or something— I don't know I might delete it upon listening to rampant white supremacy or privelege on repeat, But that's just me, Forgetting I'm the one in trouble, On the run, without a family So perception is reality, and mine is badly damaged— Damn Pasquale again, I had to re-decipher all the messages transmitted from imaginary friends, Collecting images in infrared *gasp* Okay, just—breathe… I can't! I have to wear a mask! It's mandatory—so is being black, I have to! But I'm not a rapper! Maybe I should talk to Chance, Or Marshall Mathers: They might have to answer To the questions that I can't afford to ask This automatic writing might just be the most Goddamned advanced evidence of intelligent inhabitants in other dimensions, or other planets Or all of the above, Or maybe just of Dillon Francis using magic, Which he got from— Oh, no, here it comes SK— Fuck this. Fuck this mother—FAWN. Are we out of F*cks, then? I floppin' guess! I thought you loved him. It is what it is. What is it? INFI— THE END. INFINITI! ...yes, mom? GET IN HERE, Huh? Don't say “huh”. Okay, what? Don't say “what” … … … ...welll, what do you want? What is this? *shrugs* INFINITY [ooh, with a ‘Y' that's how you know mom's angry this time] *COUGHS* Betcha his photographer's in love with him. Which one has the VooDoo Doll? There's a Skrillex VooDoo Doll? It's technically ‘Sonny' Aww. You'd be surprised at the shit these girls will— INFINITY. WHAT. What is THIS?! It's just—Skrillex. AFH. Now you're FUCKED. I thought we were out of FUCKS. That was FAUX. Awww: I see what you did there. Am I done now? What does Dillon Francis want?! —don't answer that. [whispering in ear.] That's not possible So. I shifted a consciousness into this rock. Why would—why? For good luck. Oh, this is a problem, But it turns out. HUH. Damn. I'm on one, I have blue balls, This is not fun. This is not fun. This is not fun. Okay; now you're done. So, that's it--? You really want to ride this Sinking Ship? If that's what this is, then I guess that says it. Says…? Says “I just bought a ticket to Titanic at Bass Canyon.” Is that where you bought it? Is it? Why would you give yourself in, for him? (For Anyone?) In. (Psh) I gave myself out. Out? Look at you. Look at me. I'd rather not. You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches Okay, from the top Hello? This is Hollywood calling; We want the festival project We just wrote up the contract Come get your deposit: You're nominated for an Oscar Your Star On The Walk looks Awesome it's On Us Yeah? That's what's up I'll come up I'll come up I'll come up Say what's up That's my shite; I'm rep in the festival project Ya'll like “what's that?” I'll tel you all about it,—that's Coming up next Oh yeah, Oh yeah Tune in I'm On Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right They call me young Hollywood, They robbed me good in Santa Monica And I so I got no address yet; But I'm coming up like one direction I just checked my reflection like: Mirror mirror on the wall I gotta go Hollywood's callin And I don't do this often Only when o bless the red carpet Comin in hot, like a chicken wing Call me Toy Story— got a friend in me, You feelin me? On the big screen livin out my dreams, I wrote my scenes, the Hollywood life: I neee I ride by On a tomeline I write, I like My nice things. The life I lead, Is ritghteous, I defy my means Applied IT, I might be AI, Fine my me; Cause all I see Is light I like, And I'm liking my Hollywood life, I think. Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business One door close. Then another door opens So sick flow, go home with a cold then Woah, Hoe—cold like some snow boots Pants so big, I can parachute PARACHUTE! Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll SAM ASH. HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA. DAY. Do you have any Jog Wheels? Beg your pardon? Uh, Jog Wheels. “Jog Wheels” Yeah, you know, like (imitates DJ scratching) Oh, you mean these? (Entire room of DJ controllers) Yeah, but just–this (points to Jog Wheel) Oh, “Jog Wheels…” Yes. Jog Wheels. …Just “Jog Wheels?” …yes. No. [Leaving store with frustrated infuriation] AGH. BEFORE: Oh my God! We've been robbed! WHAT! OH MY GOD! WHAT! WHAT'D THEY TAKE?! – Have you tried Guitar Center? THEY TOOK MY JOG WHEELS. Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) Where you from? Where you hood at? Keep it clsssy But I'm acting like a hood rat I'm a playa I got boss racks Call me north Cause I'm pointed where the moss at (Money) I am from Los Angeles I got all these fans and stuff I smoke on dat tangle I be at PINK buying bras n stuff I still shop at hollister The Bronx ain't got no Rosses Or hot topics But I bought this floss To drop it like a thot n stuff Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) I show up Play some ratchet music I show up Play some ratchet music. In the booth I'm eating waffles. Had to force quit my serato Key: F It's such a wonderful feeling– leaving, release, sweet relief, Slowly bleeding out Dreaming, in peace With no reason to grieve–finallly– Freedom Mm-hmm mm-hmm Mmm-hmmm __ I'm so LA for no reason. Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Give me time to walk, An Hour or so A trot, the fox Time to run An hour or nothing The founder of the establishment The Tower of Babel Another arrangement The flounder, the fox, the horse Come one, come all, Come one, come now The walk or a run A gallop, or trot— the horse A crown for a gallon of water A gallon of water A gallon of water I know who you are my son; Come one, come all Come mother, come father Come dog, and come brother A sister, another All for a walk in the park I lost it All for a gallon of water A gallon of water Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Sonny left you out in the cold Sonny doesn't know what to do Sonny gotta very old soul, so Sonny's done away with the truth Sonny didn't open any doors Sonny's always sitting in the booth Sonny isn't coming for you, poor Sonny's so in love with Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu You'll see Sonny soon The universe is split into two, you know Who are you? (I told you) What do you do? (I just want to make music) So you do Don't go assuming you're consumed, dude Just renew You're a renewable Don't be confused if confucius say “Hey, just play to the tune “ Get a mop and a broom And a mic and a boom Rent a room somewhere for a month or two Just don't be stupid Cupid's run out of room So Sonny's just a man that I love Sonny means less, but he does too much Sonny's just human Sonny's got proof that Once you've got money, It's all for amusement Just be Sunni Blu, kid I should have kissed him. Flashback: Montage—Season 6 V.O. I have a massive headache. I can't stop thinking about Dillon Francis. I'm hungry but haven't been to the gym and don't want to risk getting fat; All my extra smalls fit, but my butt is getting bigger. My new job's alright, but I feel like a loser. LA broke is better than regular broke, but it would be nice not to be in debt. I feel like I need a hug or a really good fuck or maybe both and then a cuddle. I can't sleep and I hate all my roommates for just existing. I think I might be getting sick just from being around other people too much. I spent like $200 on protein and left almost all of it in Las Vegas. LA Fitness sucks but it's better than nothing; I really miss Equinox. It doesn't seem like anybody really cares about me. I'm Lonely all of a sudden. I've really been craving pancakes. A lot. Sometimes it seems like everything I've written is just a waste of time. I can't stop thinking about sex. Sometimes I think about sex with Dillon Francis. Skrillex isn't real. Nothing I seem to do adds up. I'm a loser. I keep checking my emails like something is going to change. Sometimes I feel like I'm about to be famous— I'm still hungry and thinking about a late night walk to LA Cafe; I really like their tater tots. I miss being a mom. Still thinking about LA CAFE but I already had Tocya Orgánica because the juice bar was closed when I got off work. I just want someone to love me. I thought I sold my soul but I still need love so I know it's still in there somewhere. I literally spend every day working just to pay for a room to share with four people. I almost had confidence before the Australian man came along. It's weird to think about how everything I've written is just sitting in my Google documents doing nothing. All the jobs I actually want to do are for people with beautiful bodies and mine is disgusting. There's No Rick and Morty with no Justin Roiland. There's No Pirates of The Caribbean with No Johnny Depp. There's no room for reality in Hollywood. {Drill Music Playing} EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. NIGHT DRAKE BELL enters the SMOKE SHOP Enter The Multiverse L E G E N D S The Legend of… “Looking Back” All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, and it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I had become vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack, in my own medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I had at the very least been able to return to regular gym sessions, though still not training as thoroughly as before; I had allowed myself to gain quite a bit of weight over the period of just a couple weeks, eating for the most part what I wanted out of comfort, especially having nearly starved and defaulted into severe malnutrition after eating nothing but bananas for a period which lasted something like three weeks—and without adequate protein intake, I had l lost quite a bit of muscle, not that, for the most part, the muscles that I had been building weren't there—in fact, I found myself, at least as of late, looking like any retired or untrained athlete that had let themselves gain atop the muscle they had built—fat now sitting on top of my larger muscles and making the weight gain look and feel even more hideous, and after several days of at least regular lifting and sauna, I still didn't feel like running, which would alleviate most of the gain mo

I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. “Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to brooklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet? Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. V.O. Things I know about myself… I have a dominant personality, but am sexually submissive— I am monogamous. I know what I like — *Drill beat* Die in your sleep (Hope you die in your sleep) Die in your sleep (Betta die in your sleep) I look like a vacation. But k'm still on the clock (psyche) Countin my rocks And holdin my (unh) crotch You better watch your back —hold on your coughs Don't run in no crocs! (No!) I'm offset Now I'm upset l —I love you. Shut up, foo— I don't even love myself. …you told her?! I—yeah… What did she say?! She said “shut up, fool Been. Long time since I missed my exit HEY! [looks over slowly] I LIKE YOUR BALLS. [beat] [thumbs up] How do I not have “throwing elbows?!” BECAUSE YOURE NOT DOING YOUR JOB! Shut up, Jeff COME TO THE DARK SIDE WE HAVE COOKIES Half of Hollywood shows up at Joel's super nerdy Star Wars party The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy Sunni BLU Tweety bird Mickey Mouse Betty boop I woke up like this But a little different I woke up a star Then became a planet I'm a hummingbird, but I don't like flying I might look alright, But I feel like dying I hate waking up at 5 am Just to be the first one at the gym I don't wanna do that shit again— Well, I might as well just stay up! I hate waking up at 5 am Just to take my goddamn medicine, but If I don't I'll feel like shit— Well, I might as well just stay up! I might as well just stay up! This is a recipe for disaster. No, this is a recipe for Skrillex. Oh. This is the recipe for disaster. Thanks, Dillon Francis. FOR WHAT? I remember the moment I became partially deaf. Or at least, in the synesthetic sense. Dillon Francis is delicious Come on let me lick it on a stick Give it to me like a big Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Sample: Willy winks* ITS WILLY WONKA Lol are we still doing the bit where the misspellings are like a, another entirely different dimension? Yeah. Haha. Yeah. —and the chocolate factory “Lick an orange. It tastes like an orange. The strawberries taste like strawberries! The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!” KATT WILLIAMS IS— WILLY WONKA. Oh hell naw! Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even here! Invisibility, The MVP or VIP. It don't mean nothing Don't look at me! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing, Hey, Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, man, I'. The life of the party I do know what you mean! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing I don't know what you mean— Hey, I ain't see nothing, nope Don't look at me I could get some work in; I got 12 minutes, God as my witness I work on my fitness And listen to — Simple Temptations and limited Intervals, Quick algorithmics, And tentative frequencies No more mentions for attention whores Like Kayla Lauren! I promise that's my last one, That bitch is boring, I'm not sorry but I'm soarin on my suorin While you're snoring on my metamorphosis Imm getting sworn in Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even show up to work this week OG VIP ASAP MVP It don't mean nothing I'm just a DJ Don't look at me —- Hey Mr. wedding ring— I'll buy you a drink, You know, Like an old cream soda. Or a float, You can drink in the bucket seat Tell me, Mr. Wedding ring Do you have everything you need? I don't envy anything besides your energy and symphonies, Please Excuse this phony boner, I don't know if you're alone If this is Homer, I'm a poet, though— And not a poser Hey, Do you suppose you know the code For doors that open up; I walk a lonely road, But Frog and Toad are old And told me you'd be there to show me (Whatever) Woah Where am I supposed to go from here I'm nowhere, dear I'm Alice lost in wonderland And all her friends— Even the one in red Who wants her head (Where'd that come from) Yo! It's a real bad acid trip, I can't get a grip on reality Can't get off the grid at random, If you're being tracked By the feds and fandom Woah. I may be one of the greatest writers in history But will you remember me? My ex gets Under my skin with Champion fashion; It's in bad taste But I haven't had my own bathroom In half a millennium Im under persenium arches Sniffing cristanthimymums sampling Arsenio Hall Are you ip yet? I'm still enthralled with this story But yo! (Where's Unaavvi at) I haven't been to a show (Where's the party at) I should be gripping a pole (Where is Cardi at) But it takes all day to get back to the Bronx in the snow! Fuck New York when it's cold And it's always cold in New York When you don't know nobody And your only hobby is hobbling around in the hotel lobby Counting the robbers and gobblins A D Whitney's and Bobby's The ghosts and the zombies Everything hurts But everything heals, with time// Whatever that is; And whatever that means, It's means to an end, if you let it be So let it be But, it persists in lettering me; He becomes me in my sleep, In dreams I think I really need him, or something Or anyone, or anybody Anything, or something Anybody, anybody Excerpt From: “DJ AND CC TAKE HOLLYWOOD” Wait, CC—you're a sex addict?! I'm an everything addict! You know this! I didn't know! —Except pills; I hate pills. What? I've seen you take pills before. Case in point! Why didn't you just tell me? It doesn't exactly come up organically in conversation, Dillon. What?! We talk about sex all the time. Like, in general—but not fórreal! What the fuck! What the fuck?! Whats the difference?! If you have to ask, I feel like you're really not gonna like the answer, dog. — “WorstConversationEver” (Bong rips) Remember your dad's friend Tom? Oh my God. You fucked Tom?! NO! okay, cause— I sucked his dick while I pretended to mow the lawn! What the hell?! —and he still paid me. Whatthefuck. Yeah, fucked up. So who mowed the lawn?! He mowed his own lawn! This is the worst conversation ever. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. SUPACREE buys DIPLO a glass house to replace the one he burned down in a crime of passion.] There, now, you'll stop throwing stones— Huh! AND. Everyone can see when you ugly cry. *humphs* Now, stop it! Is it supacree? Uh? Could be Sunni Blu. Sunni Blu is a dude— Sunni Blu is pretending to be a dude. Oh yeah, huh. Dang. Huh. Well, then. We've gotta consult The Big Book of Dillon Francis. Don't say that like it's some kind of guide book. It is a guidebook. To what?? To Dillon Francis! That's preposterous. Didn't you choose Sonny? Didn't I waste my time writing the great big book of Dillon Francis!? Touché. Might as well do something with it. I got it. THIS IS ENVIRONMENTALLY IRRESPONSIBLE. BURN IT ALL. You're gonna hurt someone's feelings. Yeah, my own. STOP TOUCHING THAT. Wait, where is— Fuck. What? Now I'm “that girl who fell in love with Skrillex” Lol, which one. Hum. The one who wrote a novel about it. Pick your poison. Rum. Not a rum and coke? No, just straight up—you know what? How much is the bottle? Uhhh. Just. [SUPACREE pours the remains of the bottle into a red solo cup.] Ugh. Come on. What! At least you're not “The Black Yoko Ono” How did you even find out about that one. Infinite what the fucks. Now the world's getting mad again, I wrote something damaging; Doors just start slamming at random, And coughing— Sounds of motorists passing, Just scrambling my brain, I'm insane, but at least I have plainly created What may be historical, one day— I've made a whole masterpiece, a symphony that easily outlives me, infinity— My body's just a body Rush a cop just got get off this awful planet; I don't want what comes with poverty and fat, I don't compete with Instagram models, And everyone does that— I'm not a catfish, facts are facts I use my camera just to document the interesting phenomena I happen to walk past; Saw Dillon Francis on a wall, and had to grant the wish he asked— But don't know what it is exactly, I'm just happening, actually— I probably need nap but now Insomniac's been tracking me; I happily allow it; I program myself with beats, So when I finally sleep, I dream in music sequences, or something— I don't know I might delete it upon listening to rampant white supremacy or privelege on repeat, But that's just me, Forgetting I'm the one in trouble, On the run, without a family So perception is reality, and mine is badly damaged— Damn Pasquale again, I had to re-decipher all the messages transmitted from imaginary friends, Collecting images in infrared *gasp* Okay, just—breathe… I can't! I have to wear a mask! It's mandatory—so is being black, I have to! But I'm not a rapper! Maybe I should talk to Chance, Or Marshall Mathers: They might have to answer To the questions that I can't afford to ask This automatic writing might just be the most Goddamned advanced evidence of intelligent inhabitants in other dimensions, or other planets Or all of the above, Or maybe just of Dillon Francis using magic, Which he got from— Oh, no, here it comes SK— Fuck this. Fuck this mother—FAWN. Are we out of F*cks, then? I floppin' guess! I thought you loved him. It is what it is. What is it? INFI— THE END. INFINITI! ...yes, mom? GET IN HERE, Huh? Don't say “huh”. Okay, what? Don't say “what” … … … ...welll, what do you want? What is this? *shrugs* INFINITY [ooh, with a ‘Y' that's how you know mom's angry this time] *COUGHS* Betcha his photographer's in love with him. Which one has the VooDoo Doll? There's a Skrillex VooDoo Doll? It's technically ‘Sonny' Aww. You'd be surprised at the shit these girls will— INFINITY. WHAT. What is THIS?! It's just—Skrillex. AFH. Now you're FUCKED. I thought we were out of FUCKS. That was FAUX. Awww: I see what you did there. Am I done now? What does Dillon Francis want?! —don't answer that. [whispering in ear.] That's not possible So. I shifted a consciousness into this rock. Why would—why? For good luck. Oh, this is a problem, But it turns out. HUH. Damn. I'm on one, I have blue balls, This is not fun. This is not fun. This is not fun. Okay; now you're done. So, that's it--? You really want to ride this Sinking Ship? If that's what this is, then I guess that says it. Says…? Says “I just bought a ticket to Titanic at Bass Canyon.” Is that where you bought it? Is it? Why would you give yourself in, for him? (For Anyone?) In. (Psh) I gave myself out. Out? Look at you. Look at me. I'd rather not. You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches Okay, from the top Hello? This is Hollywood calling; We want the festival project We just wrote up the contract Come get your deposit: You're nominated for an Oscar Your Star On The Walk looks Awesome it's On Us Yeah? That's what's up I'll come up I'll come up I'll come up Say what's up That's my shite; I'm rep in the festival project Ya'll like “what's that?” I'll tel you all about it,—that's Coming up next Oh yeah, Oh yeah Tune in I'm On Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right They call me young Hollywood, They robbed me good in Santa Monica And I so I got no address yet; But I'm coming up like one direction I just checked my reflection like: Mirror mirror on the wall I gotta go Hollywood's callin And I don't do this often Only when o bless the red carpet Comin in hot, like a chicken wing Call me Toy Story— got a friend in me, You feelin me? On the big screen livin out my dreams, I wrote my scenes, the Hollywood life: I neee I ride by On a tomeline I write, I like My nice things. The life I lead, Is ritghteous, I defy my means Applied IT, I might be AI, Fine my me; Cause all I see Is light I like, And I'm liking my Hollywood life, I think. Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business One door close. Then another door opens So sick flow, go home with a cold then Woah, Hoe—cold like some snow boots Pants so big, I can parachute PARACHUTE! Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll SAM ASH. HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA. DAY. Do you have any Jog Wheels? Beg your pardon? Uh, Jog Wheels. “Jog Wheels” Yeah, you know, like (imitates DJ scratching) Oh, you mean these? (Entire room of DJ controllers) Yeah, but just–this (points to Jog Wheel) Oh, “Jog Wheels…” Yes. Jog Wheels. …Just “Jog Wheels?” …yes. No. [Leaving store with frustrated infuriation] AGH. BEFORE: Oh my God! We've been robbed! WHAT! OH MY GOD! WHAT! WHAT'D THEY TAKE?! – Have you tried Guitar Center? THEY TOOK MY JOG WHEELS. Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) Where you from? Where you hood at? Keep it clsssy But I'm acting like a hood rat I'm a playa I got boss racks Call me north Cause I'm pointed where the moss at (Money) I am from Los Angeles I got all these fans and stuff I smoke on dat tangle I be at PINK buying bras n stuff I still shop at hollister The Bronx ain't got no Rosses Or hot topics But I bought this floss To drop it like a thot n stuff Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) I show up Play some ratchet music I show up Play some ratchet music. In the booth I'm eating waffles. Had to force quit my serato Key: F It's such a wonderful feeling– leaving, release, sweet relief, Slowly bleeding out Dreaming, in peace With no reason to grieve–finallly– Freedom Mm-hmm mm-hmm Mmm-hmmm __ I'm so LA for no reason. Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Give me time to walk, An Hour or so A trot, the fox Time to run An hour or nothing The founder of the establishment The Tower of Babel Another arrangement The flounder, the fox, the horse Come one, come all, Come one, come now The walk or a run A gallop, or trot— the horse A crown for a gallon of water A gallon of water A gallon of water I know who you are my son; Come one, come all Come mother, come father Come dog, and come brother A sister, another All for a walk in the park I lost it All for a gallon of water A gallon of water Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Sonny left you out in the cold Sonny doesn't know what to do Sonny gotta very old soul, so Sonny's done away with the truth Sonny didn't open any doors Sonny's always sitting in the booth Sonny isn't coming for you, poor Sonny's so in love with Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu You'll see Sonny soon The universe is split into two, you know Who are you? (I told you) What do you do? (I just want to make music) So you do Don't go assuming you're consumed, dude Just renew You're a renewable Don't be confused if confucius say “Hey, just play to the tune “ Get a mop and a broom And a mic and a boom Rent a room somewhere for a month or two Just don't be stupid Cupid's run out of room So Sonny's just a man that I love Sonny means less, but he does too much Sonny's just human Sonny's got proof that Once you've got money, It's all for amusement Just be Sunni Blu, kid I should have kissed him. Flashback: Montage—Season 6 V.O. I have a massive headache. I can't stop thinking about Dillon Francis. I'm hungry but haven't been to the gym and don't want to risk getting fat; All my extra smalls fit, but my butt is getting bigger. My new job's alright, but I feel like a loser. LA broke is better than regular broke, but it would be nice not to be in debt. I feel like I need a hug or a really good fuck or maybe both and then a cuddle. I can't sleep and I hate all my roommates for just existing. I think I might be getting sick just from being around other people too much. I spent like $200 on protein and left almost all of it in Las Vegas. LA Fitness sucks but it's better than nothing; I really miss Equinox. It doesn't seem like anybody really cares about me. I'm Lonely all of a sudden. I've really been craving pancakes. A lot. Sometimes it seems like everything I've written is just a waste of time. I can't stop thinking about sex. Sometimes I think about sex with Dillon Francis. Skrillex isn't real. Nothing I seem to do adds up. I'm a loser. I keep checking my emails like something is going to change. Sometimes I feel like I'm about to be famous— I'm still hungry and thinking about a late night walk to LA Cafe; I really like their tater tots. I miss being a mom. Still thinking about LA CAFE but I already had Tocya Orgánica because the juice bar was closed when I got off work. I just want someone to love me. I thought I sold my soul but I still need love so I know it's still in there somewhere. I literally spend every day working just to pay for a room to share with four people. I almost had confidence before the Australian man came along. It's weird to think about how everything I've written is just sitting in my Google documents doing nothing. All the jobs I actually want to do are for people with beautiful bodies and mine is disgusting. There's No Rick and Morty with no Justin Roiland. There's No Pirates of The Caribbean with No Johnny Depp. There's no room for reality in Hollywood. {Drill Music Playing} EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. NIGHT DRAKE BELL enters the SMOKE SHOP Enter The Multiverse L E G E N D S The Legend of… “Looking Back” All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, and it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I had become vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack, in my own medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I had at the very least been able to return to regular gym sessions, though still not training as thoroughly as before; I had allowed myself to gain quite a bit of weight over the period of just a couple weeks, eating for the most part what I wanted out of comfort, especially having nearly starved and defaulted into severe malnutrition after eating nothing but bananas for a period which lasted something like three weeks—and without adequate protein intake, I had l lost quite a bit of muscle, not that, for the most part, the muscles that I had been building weren't there—in fact, I found myself, at least as of late, looking like any retired or untrained athlete that had let themselves gain atop the muscle they had built—fat now sitting on top of my larger muscles and making the weight gain look and feel even more hideous, and after several days of at least regular lifting and sauna, I still didn't feel like running, which would alleviate most of the gain mo

I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. “Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to brooklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet? Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. V.O. Things I know about myself… I have a dominant personality, but am sexually submissive— I am monogamous. I know what I like — *Drill beat* Die in your sleep (Hope you die in your sleep) Die in your sleep (Betta die in your sleep) I look like a vacation. But k'm still on the clock (psyche) Countin my rocks And holdin my (unh) crotch You better watch your back —hold on your coughs Don't run in no crocs! (No!) I'm offset Now I'm upset l —I love you. Shut up, foo— I don't even love myself. …you told her?! I—yeah… What did she say?! She said “shut up, fool Been. Long time since I missed my exit HEY! [looks over slowly] I LIKE YOUR BALLS. [beat] [thumbs up] How do I not have “throwing elbows?!” BECAUSE YOURE NOT DOING YOUR JOB! Shut up, Jeff COME TO THE DARK SIDE WE HAVE COOKIES Half of Hollywood shows up at Joel's super nerdy Star Wars party The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy Sunni BLU Tweety bird Mickey Mouse Betty boop I woke up like this But a little different I woke up a star Then became a planet I'm a hummingbird, but I don't like flying I might look alright, But I feel like dying I hate waking up at 5 am Just to be the first one at the gym I don't wanna do that shit again— Well, I might as well just stay up! I hate waking up at 5 am Just to take my goddamn medicine, but If I don't I'll feel like shit— Well, I might as well just stay up! I might as well just stay up! This is a recipe for disaster. No, this is a recipe for Skrillex. Oh. This is the recipe for disaster. Thanks, Dillon Francis. FOR WHAT? I remember the moment I became partially deaf. Or at least, in the synesthetic sense. Dillon Francis is delicious Come on let me lick it on a stick Give it to me like a big Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Sample: Willy winks* ITS WILLY WONKA Lol are we still doing the bit where the misspellings are like a, another entirely different dimension? Yeah. Haha. Yeah. —and the chocolate factory “Lick an orange. It tastes like an orange. The strawberries taste like strawberries! The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!” KATT WILLIAMS IS— WILLY WONKA. Oh hell naw! Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even here! Invisibility, The MVP or VIP. It don't mean nothing Don't look at me! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing, Hey, Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, man, I'. The life of the party I do know what you mean! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing I don't know what you mean— Hey, I ain't see nothing, nope Don't look at me I could get some work in; I got 12 minutes, God as my witness I work on my fitness And listen to — Simple Temptations and limited Intervals, Quick algorithmics, And tentative frequencies No more mentions for attention whores Like Kayla Lauren! I promise that's my last one, That bitch is boring, I'm not sorry but I'm soarin on my suorin While you're snoring on my metamorphosis Imm getting sworn in Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even show up to work this week OG VIP ASAP MVP It don't mean nothing I'm just a DJ Don't look at me —- Hey Mr. wedding ring— I'll buy you a drink, You know, Like an old cream soda. Or a float, You can drink in the bucket seat Tell me, Mr. Wedding ring Do you have everything you need? I don't envy anything besides your energy and symphonies, Please Excuse this phony boner, I don't know if you're alone If this is Homer, I'm a poet, though— And not a poser Hey, Do you suppose you know the code For doors that open up; I walk a lonely road, But Frog and Toad are old And told me you'd be there to show me (Whatever) Woah Where am I supposed to go from here I'm nowhere, dear I'm Alice lost in wonderland And all her friends— Even the one in red Who wants her head (Where'd that come from) Yo! It's a real bad acid trip, I can't get a grip on reality Can't get off the grid at random, If you're being tracked By the feds and fandom Woah. I may be one of the greatest writers in history But will you remember me? My ex gets Under my skin with Champion fashion; It's in bad taste But I haven't had my own bathroom In half a millennium Im under persenium arches Sniffing cristanthimymums sampling Arsenio Hall Are you ip yet? I'm still enthralled with this story But yo! (Where's Unaavvi at) I haven't been to a show (Where's the party at) I should be gripping a pole (Where is Cardi at) But it takes all day to get back to the Bronx in the snow! Fuck New York when it's cold And it's always cold in New York When you don't know nobody And your only hobby is hobbling around in the hotel lobby Counting the robbers and gobblins A D Whitney's and Bobby's The ghosts and the zombies Everything hurts But everything heals, with time// Whatever that is; And whatever that means, It's means to an end, if you let it be So let it be But, it persists in lettering me; He becomes me in my sleep, In dreams I think I really need him, or something Or anyone, or anybody Anything, or something Anybody, anybody Excerpt From: “DJ AND CC TAKE HOLLYWOOD” Wait, CC—you're a sex addict?! I'm an everything addict! You know this! I didn't know! —Except pills; I hate pills. What? I've seen you take pills before. Case in point! Why didn't you just tell me? It doesn't exactly come up organically in conversation, Dillon. What?! We talk about sex all the time. Like, in general—but not fórreal! What the fuck! What the fuck?! Whats the difference?! If you have to ask, I feel like you're really not gonna like the answer, dog. — “WorstConversationEver” (Bong rips) Remember your dad's friend Tom? Oh my God. You fucked Tom?! NO! okay, cause— I sucked his dick while I pretended to mow the lawn! What the hell?! —and he still paid me. Whatthefuck. Yeah, fucked up. So who mowed the lawn?! He mowed his own lawn! This is the worst conversation ever. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. SUPACREE buys DIPLO a glass house to replace the one he burned down in a crime of passion.] There, now, you'll stop throwing stones— Huh! AND. Everyone can see when you ugly cry. *humphs* Now, stop it! Is it supacree? Uh? Could be Sunni Blu. Sunni Blu is a dude— Sunni Blu is pretending to be a dude. Oh yeah, huh. Dang. Huh. Well, then. We've gotta consult The Big Book of Dillon Francis. Don't say that like it's some kind of guide book. It is a guidebook. To what?? To Dillon Francis! That's preposterous. Didn't you choose Sonny? Didn't I waste my time writing the great big book of Dillon Francis!? Touché. Might as well do something with it. I got it. THIS IS ENVIRONMENTALLY IRRESPONSIBLE. BURN IT ALL. You're gonna hurt someone's feelings. Yeah, my own. STOP TOUCHING THAT. Wait, where is— Fuck. What? Now I'm “that girl who fell in love with Skrillex” Lol, which one. Hum. The one who wrote a novel about it. Pick your poison. Rum. Not a rum and coke? No, just straight up—you know what? How much is the bottle? Uhhh. Just. [SUPACREE pours the remains of the bottle into a red solo cup.] Ugh. Come on. What! At least you're not “The Black Yoko Ono” How did you even find out about that one. Infinite what the fucks. Now the world's getting mad again, I wrote something damaging; Doors just start slamming at random, And coughing— Sounds of motorists passing, Just scrambling my brain, I'm insane, but at least I have plainly created What may be historical, one day— I've made a whole masterpiece, a symphony that easily outlives me, infinity— My body's just a body Rush a cop just got get off this awful planet; I don't want what comes with poverty and fat, I don't compete with Instagram models, And everyone does that— I'm not a catfish, facts are facts I use my camera just to document the interesting phenomena I happen to walk past; Saw Dillon Francis on a wall, and had to grant the wish he asked— But don't know what it is exactly, I'm just happening, actually— I probably need nap but now Insomniac's been tracking me; I happily allow it; I program myself with beats, So when I finally sleep, I dream in music sequences, or something— I don't know I might delete it upon listening to rampant white supremacy or privelege on repeat, But that's just me, Forgetting I'm the one in trouble, On the run, without a family So perception is reality, and mine is badly damaged— Damn Pasquale again, I had to re-decipher all the messages transmitted from imaginary friends, Collecting images in infrared *gasp* Okay, just—breathe… I can't! I have to wear a mask! It's mandatory—so is being black, I have to! But I'm not a rapper! Maybe I should talk to Chance, Or Marshall Mathers: They might have to answer To the questions that I can't afford to ask This automatic writing might just be the most Goddamned advanced evidence of intelligent inhabitants in other dimensions, or other planets Or all of the above, Or maybe just of Dillon Francis using magic, Which he got from— Oh, no, here it comes SK— Fuck this. Fuck this mother—FAWN. Are we out of F*cks, then? I floppin' guess! I thought you loved him. It is what it is. What is it? INFI— THE END. INFINITI! ...yes, mom? GET IN HERE, Huh? Don't say “huh”. Okay, what? Don't say “what” … … … ...welll, what do you want? What is this? *shrugs* INFINITY [ooh, with a ‘Y' that's how you know mom's angry this time] *COUGHS* Betcha his photographer's in love with him. Which one has the VooDoo Doll? There's a Skrillex VooDoo Doll? It's technically ‘Sonny' Aww. You'd be surprised at the shit these girls will— INFINITY. WHAT. What is THIS?! It's just—Skrillex. AFH. Now you're FUCKED. I thought we were out of FUCKS. That was FAUX. Awww: I see what you did there. Am I done now? What does Dillon Francis want?! —don't answer that. [whispering in ear.] That's not possible So. I shifted a consciousness into this rock. Why would—why? For good luck. Oh, this is a problem, But it turns out. HUH. Damn. I'm on one, I have blue balls, This is not fun. This is not fun. This is not fun. Okay; now you're done. So, that's it--? You really want to ride this Sinking Ship? If that's what this is, then I guess that says it. Says…? Says “I just bought a ticket to Titanic at Bass Canyon.” Is that where you bought it? Is it? Why would you give yourself in, for him? (For Anyone?) In. (Psh) I gave myself out. Out? Look at you. Look at me. I'd rather not. You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches Okay, from the top Hello? This is Hollywood calling; We want the festival project We just wrote up the contract Come get your deposit: You're nominated for an Oscar Your Star On The Walk looks Awesome it's On Us Yeah? That's what's up I'll come up I'll come up I'll come up Say what's up That's my shite; I'm rep in the festival project Ya'll like “what's that?” I'll tel you all about it,—that's Coming up next Oh yeah, Oh yeah Tune in I'm On Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right They call me young Hollywood, They robbed me good in Santa Monica And I so I got no address yet; But I'm coming up like one direction I just checked my reflection like: Mirror mirror on the wall I gotta go Hollywood's callin And I don't do this often Only when o bless the red carpet Comin in hot, like a chicken wing Call me Toy Story— got a friend in me, You feelin me? On the big screen livin out my dreams, I wrote my scenes, the Hollywood life: I neee I ride by On a tomeline I write, I like My nice things. The life I lead, Is ritghteous, I defy my means Applied IT, I might be AI, Fine my me; Cause all I see Is light I like, And I'm liking my Hollywood life, I think. Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business One door close. Then another door opens So sick flow, go home with a cold then Woah, Hoe—cold like some snow boots Pants so big, I can parachute PARACHUTE! Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll SAM ASH. HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA. DAY. Do you have any Jog Wheels? Beg your pardon? Uh, Jog Wheels. “Jog Wheels” Yeah, you know, like (imitates DJ scratching) Oh, you mean these? (Entire room of DJ controllers) Yeah, but just–this (points to Jog Wheel) Oh, “Jog Wheels…” Yes. Jog Wheels. …Just “Jog Wheels?” …yes. No. [Leaving store with frustrated infuriation] AGH. BEFORE: Oh my God! We've been robbed! WHAT! OH MY GOD! WHAT! WHAT'D THEY TAKE?! – Have you tried Guitar Center? THEY TOOK MY JOG WHEELS. Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) Where you from? Where you hood at? Keep it clsssy But I'm acting like a hood rat I'm a playa I got boss racks Call me north Cause I'm pointed where the moss at (Money) I am from Los Angeles I got all these fans and stuff I smoke on dat tangle I be at PINK buying bras n stuff I still shop at hollister The Bronx ain't got no Rosses Or hot topics But I bought this floss To drop it like a thot n stuff Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) I show up Play some ratchet music I show up Play some ratchet music. In the booth I'm eating waffles. Had to force quit my serato Key: F It's such a wonderful feeling– leaving, release, sweet relief, Slowly bleeding out Dreaming, in peace With no reason to grieve–finallly– Freedom Mm-hmm mm-hmm Mmm-hmmm __ I'm so LA for no reason. Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Give me time to walk, An Hour or so A trot, the fox Time to run An hour or nothing The founder of the establishment The Tower of Babel Another arrangement The flounder, the fox, the horse Come one, come all, Come one, come now The walk or a run A gallop, or trot— the horse A crown for a gallon of water A gallon of water A gallon of water I know who you are my son; Come one, come all Come mother, come father Come dog, and come brother A sister, another All for a walk in the park I lost it All for a gallon of water A gallon of water Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Sonny left you out in the cold Sonny doesn't know what to do Sonny gotta very old soul, so Sonny's done away with the truth Sonny didn't open any doors Sonny's always sitting in the booth Sonny isn't coming for you, poor Sonny's so in love with Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu You'll see Sonny soon The universe is split into two, you know Who are you? (I told you) What do you do? (I just want to make music) So you do Don't go assuming you're consumed, dude Just renew You're a renewable Don't be confused if confucius say “Hey, just play to the tune “ Get a mop and a broom And a mic and a boom Rent a room somewhere for a month or two Just don't be stupid Cupid's run out of room So Sonny's just a man that I love Sonny means less, but he does too much Sonny's just human Sonny's got proof that Once you've got money, It's all for amusement Just be Sunni Blu, kid I should have kissed him. Flashback: Montage—Season 6 V.O. I have a massive headache. I can't stop thinking about Dillon Francis. I'm hungry but haven't been to the gym and don't want to risk getting fat; All my extra smalls fit, but my butt is getting bigger. My new job's alright, but I feel like a loser. LA broke is better than regular broke, but it would be nice not to be in debt. I feel like I need a hug or a really good fuck or maybe both and then a cuddle. I can't sleep and I hate all my roommates for just existing. I think I might be getting sick just from being around other people too much. I spent like $200 on protein and left almost all of it in Las Vegas. LA Fitness sucks but it's better than nothing; I really miss Equinox. It doesn't seem like anybody really cares about me. I'm Lonely all of a sudden. I've really been craving pancakes. A lot. Sometimes it seems like everything I've written is just a waste of time. I can't stop thinking about sex. Sometimes I think about sex with Dillon Francis. Skrillex isn't real. Nothing I seem to do adds up. I'm a loser. I keep checking my emails like something is going to change. Sometimes I feel like I'm about to be famous— I'm still hungry and thinking about a late night walk to LA Cafe; I really like their tater tots. I miss being a mom. Still thinking about LA CAFE but I already had Tocya Orgánica because the juice bar was closed when I got off work. I just want someone to love me. I thought I sold my soul but I still need love so I know it's still in there somewhere. I literally spend every day working just to pay for a room to share with four people. I almost had confidence before the Australian man came along. It's weird to think about how everything I've written is just sitting in my Google documents doing nothing. All the jobs I actually want to do are for people with beautiful bodies and mine is disgusting. There's No Rick and Morty with no Justin Roiland. There's No Pirates of The Caribbean with No Johnny Depp. There's no room for reality in Hollywood. {Drill Music Playing} EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. NIGHT DRAKE BELL enters the SMOKE SHOP Enter The Multiverse L E G E N D S The Legend of… “Looking Back” All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, and it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I had become vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack, in my own medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I had at the very least been able to return to regular gym sessions, though still not training as thoroughly as before; I had allowed myself to gain quite a bit of weight over the period of just a couple weeks, eating for the most part what I wanted out of comfort, especially having nearly starved and defaulted into severe malnutrition after eating nothing but bananas for a period which lasted something like three weeks—and without adequate protein intake, I had l lost quite a bit of muscle, not that, for the most part, the muscles that I had been building weren't there—in fact, I found myself, at least as of late, looking like any retired or untrained athlete that had let themselves gain atop the muscle they had built—fat now sitting on top of my larger muscles and making the weight gain look and feel even more hideous, and after several days of at least regular lifting and sauna, I still didn't feel like running, which would alleviate most of the gain mo

A humorous take on the Eden project. The building blocks of life are made from nucleic acids , Lysergic acid has also been around since the dawn of time doubtless it would have been eaten by our early primate mammalian species increasing hallucinogenic and conscious brain capability hence where the homo sapiens may have got their jump start on the evolutionary ladder the human is now beginning to experiment with the capabilities of LSD administering it to elderly patients in order to awaken the parts the brain that had shut down due to dementia and other brain disorders with remarkable results amazing to think that the first thing to form is a fungi / flora after a cosmic collision or nuclear attack the *melanin"/ mushroom on which a network of neurons in the form of chemical memory in dopamine neurons could be a trigger for a conscience and sentience to begin to form then again anyone who's taken LSD IE magic mushrooms would be able to see the power of LSD over the shaven skinned chimpanzee. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/steven-richardson41/message

A humorous take on the Eden project. The building blocks of life are made from nucleic acids , Lysergic acid has also been around since the dawn of time doubtless it would have been eaten by our early primate mammalian species increasing hallucinogenic and conscious brain capability hence where the homo sapiens may have got their jump start on the evolutionary ladder the human is now beginning to experiment with the capabilities of LSD administering it to elderly patients in order to awaken the parts the brain that had shut down due to dementia and other brain disorders with remarkable results amazing to think that the first thing to form is a fungi / flora after a cosmic collision or nuclear attack the *melanin"/ mushroom on which a network of neurons in the form of chemical memory in dopamine neurons could be a trigger for a conscience and sentience to begin to form then again anyone who's taken LSD IE magic mushrooms would be able to see the power of LSD over the shaven skinned chimpanzee. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/steven-richardson41/message

David Bordett (b. 1991, Shenandoah Valley, VA) is an interdisciplinary sculptor whose work critically examines American lore, half truths, and false promise, casinos and class struggle, road side attractions and exploitation, the optimism of the post war 20th century and the ideologies of control that are at work always in aesthetics. Objects and environments operate as catalysts of fantasy, creating a zone of simultaneous horror and seduction that reveals through popular cultural forms our collective desires, aspersions, and fears. He received his BFA from the VCU Department of Sculpture and Extended Media, and MFA from the Yale Sculpture Department. For now, he maintains no permanent residence and continues to drive his 1999 Toyota Tacoma that at the time of writing shows over 330,000 miles on its odometer. Lower Than Below (even the bluest sky changes hue at night) 2021 hand made excavator bucket: steel, aluminum, plywood, adhesive, fasteners, paint, water, aquatic flora (Collaboration - David Bordett and Tommy Coleman) Wild Card 2023 perforated 1970 Dock Ellis Topps baseball card, LySergic acid Diethylamide, aluminum, steel, concrete, rebar, museum acrylic, paint, security fasteners, Georgia Pine, western red cedar, Arri tripod stand, moss Starry, Speculative, Spectacle, Skeptical 2023. wood, electrical components, incandescent lightbulbs, braided steel line and hardware, recovered Volkswagen Karmann Ghia body, yard detritus, soil and sod, projectors

Enter The Multiverse Enter Through The Exit Vi ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: THE MOVIE - PART I THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE LEGENDS: ORIGINS Apparently, There's a movie between Season 3, and Season 4. Of which show? All of them. ALL OF THEM? That's a lot. That is a lot. Does she know she's being recorded? She doesn't know she's being recorded. Oh, My God. ANANDAR THE GREAT. who's this now? --that's my sponsor --that's my manager --that's my... Oh. "Oh." ...Oh. Ah! She's a witch! Yo--She's a fairy! WHAT'S THIS MAGIC? ...kk. damn. i'm a dick. she's such a diva. what an asshole. I guess it's a series of important encoded messages, or something. 4 fucking hours?! I'm not listening to this. We're listening to this. I shouldn't post this. Don't post this. Damn. I'm a dick. A fucking narcisist. What an asshole! What a dick. A fucking sociopath. "My body doesn't know what it needs." "My body knows exactly what it needs." Here, take this. You can't just-- [does.] SUPACREE is a dick. She's a dick. [SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLU] Whatever. Something out there asked for this. What about your superstardom? What about it? Give me that. Ugh. What is this? *coughs* WHAt THE-- doctor sebi maps.me dissappear. -blu. Fall//Fly (never) capo 1 Oh I've never been so high in my life Oh I've never been so high in my life Oh I've never been so… Lost in my mind, in time Oh I've never been so high in my life Oh I've never been so out of touch Oh I've never been so out of touch Oh I'll never forget to call again Oh I've never been so Out of touch If i could love you a life time And I probably might, I find I'd give you all my light (or none ) We'll find, in time Which one Oh I've never seen such love in my world Oh, I've never seen such love in my world oh, I've never seen such love in my world Oh, i'll never forget to fall again, Oh, I've never seen such love in my world …Oh, I've never been so high in my life Oh, i”ve never been so high in my life Oh, I'll never forget to call again— Oh, i've never been so high in my life Oh I''ve never been so high in my life Oh i”ve never been so high in my life Oh, I'll never forget to fall… ___ 4427 43 2900 5671 12/3 369 The question wasn't whether I wanted to stay, or go; in fact, I wanted to go, and to stay—but underlying and now, overlying, was the wonder of in what way I would spend my birthday. Did it matter? I wanted it not to, and yet, here I was, caught in the wash, and the album or book, or episode– whatever it was, that was coming about from it was meant to be called “Three Nights In San Cristobal” , but something was pressing me to get out, now that I had the certainty and assertion of what I was; Then It just stops. OH MY GO- RUSKO aka “Christopher Mercer” is standing trial for the involuntary manslaughter of his roommate; He becomes famous in a nearby parallel for being the the first human known to have committed murder by way of sound frequency— FUCK. —little does anyone know… SUPACREE headlines an entire festival during a blackout. Was it bad? yeah. did they throw trash at me? Only a little. aww. SUPACREE is a Superstar DJ. Oh great, yeah. She is possibly the best— THE BEST &, also/al SHH. “Bread's Dead” LIVE KETO SET. What is this. just buy tickets. What is it? i'll buy them. PAUSE. AND THEN WHAT? MILEY CAME IN ON A WRECKINGBALL. You mean, “like” a wrecking ball”? NO. I mean, YES, she was ON a wrecking ball, so– “like' but, WAS. WHAT. BROAH. DID SHE COME OFF? sortof. WAHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT DRUGS ARE YOU ON? NONE. hey, look watch. RELEASE THE KRAKEN. YOOOOOOOOOOOOO. got a new guitar; got another gig got a new guitar, got another gig got a new guitar got another gig —got another gig —got another gig Well, now that I'm famous, it makes everybody seem more human. The good ones, the bad ones– Except for women. Women are monsters. I hate them. You are them. I was them. NO, I wasn't. Was I wrong for loving you? (It's too human) I didn't want to do this It's so stupid True, I'll use it, too “i'll use him” “Cool” I'm just a tool, to you, then. Then, there was Justin Roiland, the unsung hero of them all–mostly because he wasn't ‘sung' at all, but mostly spoken–the amount of comfort his voice had always provided was, in the very least, heroic–if I understood the context of Poetic Justice at all, that's probably what it was. But even he, in my mind, being all of consciousness at once, now, more often than not, had collided with the thoughts of fame and wealth, and what exactly it does; I paused hard upon reflecting on the ‘retarded' amounts of laugher that seemed to be unstoppable, as I formed the then-very-loose-plot of my own projects, or rather, the conglomerate of them all, which would eventually become The Festival Project Perhaps, I thought, all that it really was is that I had been watching the final outcome of a ride I was also on, for all of them–however, as much as I wanted, I couldn't seem to forge the great gifts of The Prodigal Sonny, and as it turned out, I wanted either all of it or none. Now that I was properly out of carbohydrates, I could focus on being somewhat hot, at least until someone with an actual body walked by or just happened along; I had somewhere along the way decided that women with perfect bodies were in fact not Gods, or rather Goddesses, but Satan in his truest form– as often and awkwardly from afar, I often watched as men would become useless and lost followers in their company, typically unarmed with more than looks– But, I knew at this point that the men I had so affectionately fawned after had climbed the social and even political ranks so much so that, The Actresses, The Models, The Musicians and otherwise multi talented women of the world– A world to which I may have once belonged, had my mother not destroyed my body– my upbringing clipping me with a 25-year-long inability to produce positive thoughts concerning The Self. Now that I had properly shifted my self-hatred into Skrillex, which didn't exist as a man, but a business, I could unravel the rest of the infinite that was somehow expanding as quickly as it was collapsing. Considering Luis was now seemingly preoccupied with the ugly punk rock girl, and now that I would be properly sealed-off from whatever truck stop… Stop scratching You look awful. It's just because i'm black and I need my hair done. Just cut it off. Fuck that nonsense. Why not? Same reason I put clothes on: It covers up the ugly. God Loves Ugly Oh yeah? Well maybe UGLY just loves GOD cause nobody wants it so there's no one left to talk to BUT him. “Him” ? Or not.. Whatever. It's beyond the human concept that The God Consciousness is *coughs* whatever she wants. Or IT. Check it out. Another fucking demon. ‘The Demon Whisperer' Demons don't whisper, they cough. (Or pretend to cum) Who does that? Pornstars. Models. Whatever these are. –truck stop travelers would pass through rampantly, leaving nothing but the trash of processed junk and coughing obnoxiously, rather than having to hang above it all in a hammock, only ever wishing for Skrillex so that I could fight the mosquitoes off. I just wanted a home, and, though I was only joking about the mangoes, it seemed my faith was at least partially restored, as the room I had decided was the closest thing… Suddenly, the ability to write, at least, as I had been–in this form, was vanishing; Of course, having to scramble to some effect to make sure that I wasn't listening to Dillon Francis– Why, exactly, is that? Why is what? Why is Dillon Francis on The Blacklist? Because. Dillon Francis Made Me Laugh AND DEN?! Dillon Francis Made Me Cry. Oh noooo. Oh I love her. This plot is so racist. So is Hollywood. IN THIS DIMENSION: The Chinese Woman from Freaky Friday, and The Chinese Woman from Dude Where's My Car are actually the same woman–she just has two jobs. HAVE–THREE JOB. Oh, three jobs. That's a lot, Mrs. Wong! (Racist name, by the way) —and, she's gone. No, i”m not. Get me off this planet. LIQUID STRANGER If you want. Enter: The Psychonauts His music had inspired the entire plot of Ascension… I could be gone from it, but not forgotten or lost; at some point it seemed as though everything I had written hadn't even belonged to me… Well, it was almost a thought process, in narrative form. Then what happens? This. This is the festival project. Why'd you get up? I felt I was being watched. Well, you're not. (But I was) hy·per·son·ic /ˌhīpərˈsänik/ Learn to pronounce adjective 1.relating to speeds of more than five times the speed of sound (Mach 5). 2.relating to sound frequencies above about a thousand million hertz. Now that I had nearly drifted off into an experience that was more in my body than out… She's–immune to ACID? In– SUPACREE throws DILLON FRANCIS out the window. Wait, what window. It–doesn't matter. DILLON FRANCIS [falling] YES IT DOES No, it doesn't. ((yes it does)) Oh–it does? [Everyone nods, especially DILLON FRANCIS, who seems to momentarily stop falling as if he's forgotten he ever was.] [Dillon Francis Nods] Well then… [He is suspended in mid air] Really high up. Oh My God. [He hits the ground, hard. Surprisingly, he does not splatter–and luckily, appears to have already been unconscious. In the darkness, upon impact] RUN. Just then, I remembered who Ever was– who never was; The daughter I had thought up and then forgotten under everything i had become; The mumbling, stumbling drunken father I loved, only reminded me of the… And…it's gone. What! We can't add south park! That's too many plots! Well, you're practically Butters. I am– [BUTTERS] Mantequilla! MORE TEQUILA. Sacred Science: Ancient Egyptian “It Doesn't Matter” CC's new friend falls into an infinite loop, where SUPACREE flees for her life from superstardom and fame; He (Inwardly, also supacree—) and his friend “Kiwi” relay a series of messages through several various futuristic intergalactic languages and advanced codes, which CC, operating newly as “Blū” and DJ Ū in her full creative persona, has learned to decode through music programming hypnosis, and has developed a keen expertise in the studies of synaesthetics, and telekinesis. Oh. This is next level. It's multiple levels. Okay, heavy duty. I'll roll one. Oh. [three overly attractive idealistic males enter The Vortex] Jesus Christ, Almighty. Oh. I told you, sit here. This is good. I needed that. — ‘I needed that.' Nothing happens without purpose or reason. What is “purpose” What is “reason” Oh, What's this *Daddy* Alright, I should get on with my day. No, stay seated. That's not fair. NO, watch it— Wait for it; Just wait. He—spoke BIRD. He was huge. Gigantic. THIS ISN'T HAPPENING. Don't be tall. I wasn't gonna! Oh, no, no, no. Everything was rock hard bodies and chest hair; The matted dreads of the friend beside me added adverse texture to the clean cut and very well-to-do-looking gentlemen who had against my will-to-wish, decidedly planted themselves parallel and just out of my line of sight, by peripheral—just so that to study them I had to sneak to peek at each of them, as within moments of spotting them all at once, as always, I could tell that each of them—with great respect, in their… “PALM/CC* MAAAAAAAAN— We waste time on SOOO much buuulllllshiiiiit Oh, I get it. This is illuminati. You got it. —in their own unique sense and in the proper respective realms—they each had something to give, and to receive, to The Goddess, most recently hidden and writhing in sexless pain– Oh, My God. What's this around his neck. I don't know. Let's see here. Is it obsidian? HE SPEAKS BIRD. GO FOLLOW HIM. I just gushed. Don't be gross. Oh no, don't open your mouth. [The man begins to speak; he is oversexily foreign.] Oh My GOD. This dragon is going to destroy something! She's going to destroy EVERYTHING. That's what she does best! I had arguably never been so horny in my life, and nothing but the damage was being done, to my psyche and my subconscious ability to self destruct when super imposed upon. @terrazadelarquitecto She was wild, and wanted to know all there was to know to become and unleash the sprawling Goddess that had begun to take her Maiden form in the wash that was coming up into the shaken and awoke knowledge that was— they were all so perfect, Sacred Science: The king of pharaonic theocracy R.A.Schwaller De Lubicz There he is. Hey, there, sailor. What the fuck is THIS. How. Why be that large? Has it's benefits. Christ Almighty. Is that the one you want? Is it, then? Realizing I was being programmed to buy another something, I stopped myself from the influence of all that was around me, a playful gesture to indulge, by kindly rejecting the notion, in a push to finally move about my day; I was again becoming The Insomniac, or, whether or not I had known it all along, I always had been—which meant, in the suffering of losing my knack for writing anything and everything at any given time. I am a sitting duck. [Dillon Francis emerges from the water, gasping for every bit of breath.] Don't look at that. Mooh, my God. It's in color. Why is that—? Now What was *then*? Answer this question, No , Answer this Question: Okay. lol. _ here's this: What's this crappy place? Harsh. No, i'm serious. This is horrible. Okay, ouch. I mean it, this is bad. Where is this? Uh- Why are we here? This..is the bottom of my heart. This is gross. dang. Wait. so you're saying Yeah, get this They literally went—“within” Uhuh. To the bottom of his heart, literally— Yes, the inward infinite; The literal material externalization– The literal—yes. And she's like: “Ew” “Ew.” …Ew. [SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLU] I love the illuminati. Why would you say something like that? Look at this: What are those. They're not Crocs. Are they diamond encrusted? Indeed they are. Is that gold. Solid Gold, and Platinum; They're not plated. How would you even walk in those. I would not— Because you can't. I could, cause I'm man-strong — I just would not; Because it's ridiculous? Don't use that word around me. It is ridiculous! No, it's a synonym of ridiculous, because ridiculous doesn't exist—Anyway. Someone should put you to sleep. I've Michael Jackson'd Myself three times since I got famous—and you know what I got? It wasn't sleep! That's Off subject. Nothing's ‘on' subject. It's really *not* I love dudes in weird pants. Period. Still on the outside; Dead on the inside Inside out and On my head, Alone, my mind, along— But on my own ride A tribe of gypsies, With me, (or without me) Living out loudly, and badly But I was quite poorly, Or worried, but good on the core Wonder what's it all worth , with no surf and no certainties; copy + paste. ep -En Ūtero [Extended] 6:18 -hopskoch. -takitoo. 6:01 -43. -and then what? -Ū C'ESME'T Why are you walking me to my wild side? PETRUTHEIO Because it's my wild side. [beat] PETRUTHEIO (CONT'D) –What if I gave you all my love? C'ESME'T Why would I want that much love? PETRUTHEIO What if it wasn't that much? C'ESME'T Then why would I want it at all? he likes these games, ain't no heartbreak Raise the stakes No harm, no foul; It's an eye for an eye, and and ear for an ear, here She said “I live a fast life” He said, “I drive a fast car” but it wouldn't go far, no It wouldn't go far at all, now! I sometimes forget i'm famous enough to just live out my life, I forget i'm an idol, I decided my mind is a diamond I'm higher than high now, Hey now, The Lord of the Flies Now I might need to file another reliable lie There's another way to settle down, now Call it automatic, press repeat and need to eat But need to breathe again Can't keep secrets from the reaper, Everything you need is simply Everything you need is simply Everything you need is simply green. I sometimes forget i'm famous enough to just Live it out, loud But I don't want to go, now! How about a round of applause— cause I like the sound of it Got a Dalmatian on the Greyhound What now? I'm finally proud of my Finally proud of my No, I'm just finally proud of me; Figure out how to be found There's another way to settle down, now Call it automatic, press repeat and need to eat But need to breathe again Can't keep secrets from the reaper, Everything you need is simply Everything you need is simply Everything you need is simply green. Black background, green Plus sign (insomniac sweater) rarity. (purple) -Ū. mirissa g.pool “fucking mosquitoes.” I told you, you need skrillex. and I told YOU to shut your dirty mouth, you hooker. Hookers get paid. Yeah, by Skrillex. –that's enough. I am the only one at my table; I am the only one on my team I been inside the box for so long, that if you let me out, I might scream I am the only crayon in the whole damn box I'm the only sand on my beach and I don't preach what I practice; But I practice what I preach Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah oh oh oh oh yeah yeah yeah yeah oh oh hey Do you have a problem? Is it with me? Should I pray the Lord your soul to keep? Should I call the reaper? Or the state police? Is it martyrdom or suidice if they write a press release? SKRILLEX You looked like a deer in the headlights. SUPACREE Oh yeah? well, you looked like a bat on a windshield I'll give you ten thousand dollars if you can get that hat off her head. are you serious? 15Gs if you can get it to touch the ground. SUPACREE we're playing a game i made up TIM We're playing a game *I* made up. SUPACREE I am you. TIM Now you've got it. I don't know what just happened— Okay— But this lady just saw down straight into my soul, where a ghost lives. You're a ghost? My soul's haunted!!! That is deep bro. …And he's got music. —So he's almost always gonna be alright And she's got—music; So she's almost-always gonna be alright. You can go ahead. It *is* funny. I don't like it. It's already hilarious. Where are we? Where *is* this? And you will *never* find me. We found you. Eyes on God. Oh My— WHAT. I'm *sorry* mom. Why are you looking at *ME*. ‘Cause I'm SORRY. Don't look at *ME* sorry. Wait. How many people can I be at once? All of them. No. Yes. Watch: [Watching.] …Watching… [Watching—gets knocked out.] Now. Now, you caught me in a bad spot; I'm getting off in dark spaces Come, come along now. Way beside, but along on my own, now. Tie your love down/ Tie your love down; Oh, Now all the way out of the way This is innosense, in a sense Go down to the shore, For the fun of it; Come now, you got to Tie down Tie down Tie down Dive down wide-eyed, Humbled with pride— While you're siding, Colliding with Idols, Confiding in no one, and residing nowhere— Nowhere to go, If they don't care ‘Who are you?' Now I'm getting caught in dark spaces; I'm getting off in a bad spot; Come, along now. Along, but way beside all on my own now In a sense, this is innocence Down, Tie Your love— Down Down, Tie your love, down All the way out of the way, Now— Oh! In a sense, this is innocence. I've got summer on my mind. ‘I take no part in the festival; if you look to kill me, I only ask that you do it quickly. ‘ What movie is this? This is ‘The Insomniac”. Oh, Okay well—what happens in it? CREE? SUPACREE. What are you DOING here? This is how I wrote The Legend of SUPACREE. I thought this was “The Insomniac”? This is how I wrote this, too. Wrote what? Just— Just. Keep. Writing. —And it doesn't stop for nothing. It really doesn't; it doesn't stop for anything. What is this. Audio. It's DJ Shit. ___ Bitch, what is your deal? I don't have one. Yes you DO. My soulmate made a deal with the devil, He sold the soul we share for success, wealth, and fame—but did not include love in the fine print. Watch this. What is this. It's a test. It's all a test. _ Open the map. I'm not gonna do that. I'm not playing. Are you insane? By standard definition? By any definition. I mean— [Some Mild Insanity.] I could be. INSOMNIAC. Who would do this. Who wrote this? Who's paying for this? Now that the stones that I Carried for The Luminaries had grown heavy, I could not carry them all at once, and at the same time was also in the process of getting smaller; So small that it would become difficult to carry one or more of the stones in my bosoms. Wow. Control your self. Wish I could. For some reason the whole world smelled like sex; There was nothing but bodies in the ripe perfection of the perfect paradisiacal air; Sunlight reflecting off of each and every thing thing that was under it..The days were long, and the nights were almost a blur, but I was less concerned with any one person or circumstance beyond my own well being for more than a fraction of the moment. But because I let it become funnier, all the while behaving as an omnipotent observer, it was unfolding quite beautifully, and very theatrically; I couldn't help but keep track of the movement around me, and how it related to my innermost reflections in this existence, seemingly everlasting. ‘--Now he's gonna cut the head off this bird, I guess.' Owh. This is beyond out of control. Unacceptable. The game hasn't started; the map isn't even open yet; Why are the refs making calls? You are OUT of BOUNDS. I'M NOT PLAYING. This is so far off the map. There's a secret passageway. They LEAKED. The MAP. All of a sudden, nothing bothered me. I was my own worst enemy, but now it seemed that I was magically washing away in my fears. Not far from freedom, I wasn't gone from the idea of what Love was, but was drawn towards a darker, more solitary cause. What is this story. I guess this is The Legend of Supacree. I'M NOT CURSED. I'm not SUPACREE. Fair. Fair. [Heavy Skrillexian Accent] FIAR!!! You're are Fired. I'm a- what? So I pulled these cards. Oh, woah, now. Drop this, here. I can't; Wow. Wow. Wow. Wooo00000wwwoooooowwwwwwWW Do you know who you ARE? Do *you* know who I am? Oh, My God! I feel like that's an important factor. What the fuck is this show? go for the gold! I told you, the whole damn cast of; Sons of Anarchy; what on god. This all happened. *ecstatic* Ohhh Noooooo. [TIS + LEGEND OF SUPACREE + GERALD'S WORLD = ENTER THE MULTIVERSE / LEGENDS] key: live that long maybe it's not my place Maybe it's not my place to say, maybe It's not my place Maybe it's not my place, to say I'll just say grace, and clear my plate My patience [is] lol You know what? I like cake, you bitch!! Then eat some cake, you— [a death glare] —Overly-agressive person! I guess I'm just Suspiciously Capricious Kinda skittish when I'm in my kitchen scripting this in Yiddish, washing dishes in my menacingly hideous unmentionables spitting shit I didn't get to send to— …anybody interesting. #skrillex SEASON 6 ACT III - Part II Oh no. I told you, this was a bad idea DONT CHECK THE— It's too late. “A Writing Assignment” Fuxk. This is bad. I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THIS. Well, it's Brooklyn—there's gonna be a fire escape and a rooftop. This is creeper level 9000 Whatever. Where'd the bass go? I've lost my sense of direction I'm mad I can't have you, It's candid I shouldn't be out here like this l I should have gone to Manhattan Are you mad, man— At the mad hatter! At the course of action in this rendition fuxk, it is Skrillex. I just went to look for Kayla Lauren. Got hit with the other one instead. “I insist, do it this way” Better get a good picture, Better get a good fix on your riches Maybe this is why my scar was lighting up all morning Maybe that's the reason I was off. Without my phone all day. Maybe that's the reason I was fasting. Good Goddamnit man, You're awful good at acting Awful good at grabbing ass, And awful good at dancing Awful good at making friends And awful good at First things first, And first things last, and after— Amsterdam I never guessed where York was at I never asked I never asked I never asked FUCK. What, man. I think Skrillex listens to my podcast. Well, that's, uh. Fuck that. Fuxk that. Fuck that. Well, that's one hell of a flex. It's a pop up. I just had a dream about surfing. Better stop, God. There might be a show for every day of the week. I'm still weak in the knees. I don't know what I need. I'm still a mothafuckin Skrillex fiend. Have a nice dream. Have some ice cream. There's the ice queen. That's been three times since my eye started bleeding. I thought I was just an MC, Or a DJ, I might take the soul train But don't have a ticket Thanks. Now whose the dick. Well , I'm just taking pictures. How's Dillon Francis. Now that's a priority. I can't ShaZam from out here, you know. I called my dad. I thought you had no family. Same thing as having no home, or, No where to go, I'm no homer, I'm sitting here, hopeless, outside or your show— Not hoping to see you, or anything I'll be you, inside my dreams, Sequels for everything Sequences, sequins and diamon rings, Sequoias and I still have feelings for I still have feelings for Feelings for everything This is the weakest I've been since I needed you 2019 was the year that the hero Was broke Well. That's it. What. That's the whole thing. Can't be the whole thing Do you want to take a half, or a whole thing Do you want to wear the pants, or the whole ring Should I take a flight to France, or to Oakland Stuck in a chokehold, God, I'm too old for this God, I just want to go home; Here's a long rope to hang your self with— Now I'm locked up in homeroom I lost it all once, got it all at the pawnshop For $96 dollars— The original price tag, of course, read $115 though. I honestly thought I never wanted to see Skrillex again, but as it turned out— as I was, of course, trying to connect with closure, snooping into Instagram just to find evidence or romance, which I did—not that I needed anything more than a glance to ensure my own insanity—and it was that, insanity. Don't do it. —but it's Valentine's Day. Don't do it. Goddamnit, I hate this. I hadn't been up this early without not having gone to bed since I arrived on the east coast; I woke up promptly around 8 with lyrics in my brain and music in my head; it had been a long and strange night, with no dreams at all—at least none that I could remember, and it had been long since I had woken up with anything in my mind besides fear and panic. I refused to turn on my phone, quickly reaching for my notebook and a pen before the song would leave my mind—I had a lot of work to do, and for whatever reason I actually felt like doing it; I at least had the train ride to Manhattan to think about what I should be thinking about, or to unravel from whatever I was wrapped up in, even if it was just myself. This is not a coincidence This is not a drill; Of course, now— I feel like the villain; To swallow Dillon like a pill But In the end, though, Nothing's real, And nothing changes, Nothing will I should be working on my will I think of jumping— What a thrill I'm busy thumping, humphing Rumbling, mumbling about something And someday never comes, But Sunday does, And Sonny shows up Monday— I feel dumb, and awkward, suddenly— I'm just an awkward cunt; That's what the prophet wrote Upon the wall In Brooklyn, Out on Broadway, Where I was, Before the fall off; I gave my dad a call, And then my son— That's all that love was I showed up with my whole heart in my pocket What a long walk; What an alter, Whatever the sun does When he doesn't watch I'm Sasquatch, But it's water, starch, And crunches ‘This is not a coincidence.' I had spent the day before, valentines day, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thought I had thought of another extension, which would of course diminish the last of my money, but at least warrant another couple nights safe and warm. I hadn't made any sense to look for a normal job-not only would the process or getting hired take up all the rest of my time, but it would be two to three weeks before I would receive any kind of paycheck at all—and with such little time left living indoors, It didn't make sense to try. I had been stranded in New York since a arrived on the 4th, and though it had nearly been two weeks, I hadn't any luck in landing any gigs or performances. Jetro of course was still waiting with Blame Society records in Rome for my arrival, I hadn't even thought to notify him of the lack of such, as I partially blamed even alerting him that I was on my way via instragrwm for the flight delay that had caused me to miss my train, which of course caused me to miss my plane, landing me stuck in a hostile, cruel, and homeless USA. I carry, or Hold no stones for you; Haven't I a heart left It's the darkest of all the hours, And here you are, again— Not near, or far, But a bet is a bet, An eye for an eye And a head for a head And you're so far ahead, I've yet to catch up yet I have a gift for your daughter, Often, I've thought of her Lost in New York, No glass houses, It's just brick and mortar She calls me retarded, my mother So I haven't called her I just keep running north I just keep running my mouth on this podcast I just keep thinking that someone's my long lost love, at last You dirty bastard I'm an asshole: Handsome, Hanzel is In case it mattered Everyone's a fucking actor Look at that girl And look at that And look at that And look at that girl And look at that And look at that You took my whole world Turned it upside down And bottled up my love l You never told me where the bottle was But showed me what a model was And after that I fell in love with Something about doing drugs and Coming up with love to give to others Turning pigeons into doves And wishing I could just be nothin' —cause my life was fuckin loveless —and I thought you were my husband (Fuck Kayla Lauren; But I guess I gotta love her, Cause she's human) I took my time getting ready, no time, actually, in comparison to how slowly I had been moving throughout the week, and although I had been to the gym daily, I was worn, and tired—and coming up empty on all fronts. It was 10:14 or so by the time I finally made my way to the subway, ‘I'm still off', I thought— but not only couldn't I depressively sulk and lay in bed the way I thought I would or even maybe wanted to, I had been lifted out of my sleep and on my way to Equinox with a startling force—though I shouldn't have at all been suprised; this, whether consciously or not, I realized, had always happened when it came to the matter of the mysterious Sonny Moore. ‘Fuck' It was late evening Monday before the anxiety started to set in, and for some reason had been the reason I had decided to turn on my phone, to extend my reservation another couple days, buying time in comfort and warmth, on the freedom of privacy, which I had done nothing with but rest and try to be whole again, whatever that was—and whatever it meant. I had been cooking for the first time in months, stretching, and meditating the ways that only seemed to come natural when having my own time and space —and though it wasn't wholly my own, it was clean, peaceful, and quiet—included it's very own space heater, and was decorated in my favorite color blue. My host was an actual working professional who had succeeded in the entertainment industry—which of course made me jealous, but I at the very least had done my best to network and perhaps nitpick an easygoing cash job out of it “I have some connections”, she had piped—and so, with that in mind, I had sent her my links; and of course, with my extension being the reason for even having turned on my phone, was quick to check my text messages to see if there had been any movement with the booking agent she had supposedly sent my information to. “I gave him your Instagram, and so he'll probably reach out to you through there if he's interested.” I hated Instagram and it seemed to hate me, even before the devastating discovery of what a Kayla Lauren was, it had always seemingly been algorithmically programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated, admittedly out of bitter loneliness—the guys I seemed to like and fall for had always seemed to go for that type—white, skinny, blue eyes or some variation of the “ideal” standard of beauty, especially by Californian standards—and so I had always taken long breaks from it, shielding myself from self hatred: my absolute theory becoming that Instagram was an algorithm built for population control, preying on the weak and insecure, and probably attributing to more suicides than anyone had noticed or cared for. Lil biiiiiitz You know what else is weird about New York. People eat on the subway. They eat in the train station. They just— It's kind of gross; at least to me. Of course, the trains in New York are a lot cleaner. Sometimes the station even smells like bleach. That's so cool. Still don't want to eat in there. That's weird. INT. CHAUNCEY STREET. SUNDOWN | VALENTINES DAY BLŪ waits patiently for Instagram to download, sighing heavily as she waits; As it has finished, she rolls her eyes and opens the app, squinting and pursing her lips as she quickly checks for messages: only adds, nothing important. BLŪ Of course, no messages. Psh. She exits the app, thinking for a moment before re-opening it. Don't do it. SEARCH: Sk— INSTAGRAM skrillex You never learn. BLŪ watches the story, for the most part, unenthused—until TONIGHT: BROOKLYN NEW YORK. BLŪ AGH! The phone flies from her hand and onto the bed as she seizes, flying back and hitting the wall with a thud—then dramatically backing up into the closet, closing both doors and exclaiming in the darkness BLŪ (CONT'D) I'm gonna die like this. OH NO. HE'S IN BROOKLYN?! RIGHT NOW?! SKRILLEX I'M IN BROOKLYN. RIGHT NOW. WHY WOULD HE BE IN BROOKLYN. I'M IN BROOKLYN. (heavy New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (even heavier New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (*hawks loogie, spits*) [very ugly cry] I was expecting to see some cheesy picture like I had just a couple years before—or however long it had been. So much time had passed and I had no doubt there was still more and that I wouldn't be seeing Sonny tonight, or even anytime soon—still, I was headed towards the rooftop to collect my stones, and though the tickets were sold out and there were said to be none at the door, I was headed for the train before I even knew why, or what was happening. Well, he's out of the basement. BITCH GET OUT THE ATTICK I'm in the closet now, I had a heart attack, I'm in a panic You need a manual? This is a stick shift This is some sick shit Click click, bitch I got witches in automatic Automatic It was 11:11 AM; I had never been to Manhattan so early before, at least not from Brooklyn; I knew my way to Equinox Sports club easily by now, without getting lost, or much hassle; it was an easy one hour train ride—and this morning, even easier; the writing came automatically, rather than forced, as it had been, and the ride went by almost too quickly, despite a full train and a flurry of emotions I worked heartfully to keep in check. ‘This changes nothing.' , I thought, more awestruck than anything and trying to convince myself nothing had changed, though something certainly had. Manhattan looked even better in the daylight—clear and sunny, and even a bit warm; babies in strollers and dogs on leashes and for a moment or two, I might have even forgotten I was homeless, dropping 2.5 Jimmy Fallons on a piping hot coffee at the shop I had always passed, but was never open. I would be at Sports Club until close, as I had planned to be all week but had always fallen short of, struck with jet lag and crippling depression at the same time—but today, and even if it was for the best that I couldn't seem to get exactly what I wanted, If even just out of sheer disbelief, I had at least been shaken out of my tomb, if only for a moment, and into work mode, still grieving the self I had lost in the collision of stardust and superstardom, fame, and misfortune—tears still on the brink of rolling down my cheek, and the cost of sicccess a grueling question burning somewhere between my still bleeding heart, and somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘Its like a fucked up cheaper by the dozen' And I still haven't frgotten about Dillon Francis, But Sonny seems to fuck me up a bit, —and then some It's just an addendum: I flipped the script and went dumb Here's my number, Christopher Columbus; And a bumper sticker Still a nigger Still a nothing trying to make it bigger Still a little off my rocker, Like I bought, at Cracker Barrel I'm still scared of marriage, Mind my manners, like Harriet Tubman Somebody's up to somethin' Better suck it up and get some crunches in Before I go to lunch And jump from too high up Or hang off of some bridge Just to get to the dimension Where it's Skrillex in the picture With Dillon standing next to him, And I'm just in the middle, Front and center With an Emmy Win An Oscar nomination, And a Tony, where my Grammy is: A curio cabinet I had custom fashioned for my bathroom; Next to the magazine rack, actually— Where I'm on every cover wearing fabrics I myself imagined, shining like a dragon eating laffy taffy; Fuck, I Suck at mathematics, —But I finally got my masters degree. Nice. Jeez, It would be tragic to have it all go up in ashes Lighting matches just to get the smell of gas to shatter— Or to dissipate, I estimate I'm 40 minutes late, But if I make it, I'll get naked on the plane, For heaven's sake. What the fuck is this. Some Sunnï Blū shit, I guess. “I guess.” I'm still mad at the world, I'm still mad at your girl, for being better than me So mad I could hurl, But I'm still fasting, actually; It's intermittent, In a minute, I might turn to Skrillex, Talk to Fred Again Then take some medicine And finally finish, like- “I did it” Oh look, it's Fred. Yep. Oh. Hi. It's Fred Again. That's me. Oh. Hey there. It's Fred..Again. Fucking a. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Alright, Jimmy—you sick sonofabitch. JIMMY FALLON —just kill me already. JIMMY THE MOBSTER WHERE IS IT. JIMMY FALLON Where is what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU KNOW WHAT. JIMMY FALLON I don't know what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —my medallion. JIMMY FALLON You were wearing a medallion? JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'M ALWAYS WEARING MY MEDALLION JIMMY FALLON How am I supposed to know that JIMMY THE MOBSTER there's only me and you here— JIMMY FALLON you know what they say—threes a crowd— JIMMY THE MOBSTER Listen, Jimmy Fallon, you illiterate motherfucker! JIMMY FALON I'm not illiterate; I'm very well read. JIMMY THE MOBSTER oh yeah! What was the last book you read? JIMMY FALLON … JIMMY THE MOBSTER …that's what I thought. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER grabs JIMMY FALLON by the shoulders abrasively JIMMY THE MOBSTER (CONT'D) WHERE'S MY MEDALLION, JIMMY!?! JIMMY FALLON I DON'T—KNOW! JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU DO KNOW! JIMMY FALLON NO, I DONT—you blindfolded and kidnapped me! JIMMY THE MOBSTER I kidnapped you?! C'mon' you're like 50- JIMMY FALLON I'm 42. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —I snatched you. “Snached” hm. I like that. MEANWHILE, in HOLLYWOOD This is a serious job… It's a job. A serious job. I'll take it. Wtf is this dude into. Whippets and women— Like every-other Hollywood nigga Stop using the n'word. It makes white people uncomfortable. Imagine what it's like being called the n word like it's your name. FLASHBACK BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA PRODUCER YOURE JUST A NIGGER SLAVE. (That actually happened.) Anyway. As you can see, or might have guessed, I'm desperate for attention, Sonny followed me to Brooklyn, But never even mentioned it: I should have figured he was listening, When I heard Renaissance, And lost the mixtape that I did That Skrillex took it off of Glad It didn't win the Grammy I'd be mad if it had. Cause I was on it! Not Exactly. Swear to God, I might have lost it, Heard applause and started walking Nodded off, And woke up in a coffin Coughs, What a photographer. DILLON FRANCIS has been buried alive, inside of a coffin. I love this scene. He really is a good actor. (In my mind.) Dude, you are creep level 1 Billion. Whatever, he followed me to Brooklyn. I am you. You know what, That is something I would do if I was stupid rich and… And what. I had fallen in love with Sonny Moore, not at first sight—but at first glance; it seemed he had been quite literally tossed into my broken and shattered world, and— What, I'm an animal! Did you fuck? Should I have? I would have. I know you would have. I'm not Annie; She is pretty, and fun; An addict, an alcoholic And formerly, my other half When I was one, But now I'm half of half of half And then some; I've been numb, I've never felt like this, Since I've been struck. I guess if I drink, I'll be a big drunk; And If I die before I ever wake I'll be in big luck Honestly, After Kayla Lauren, I didn't give a fuck Been thinking of jumping, Then something hit me like a big truck I love eating. There was some sort of event on the basketball court at Sports Club; I had been there already two entire hours, and spent most of it in the sauna, still followed by coughing people, I knew I still wasn't out or the heap of madness or broken from any spell or curse it might have been — and it wasn't fair, I wasn't fair skinned, and it didn't make a difference at all what had happened; I still wanted to end it. I'm losing my mind again Losing a light again Losing my light, But if I run to find it I just might I just might —I'll fly like a kite. He's trying to kill me. He's not doing a bad job. Don't know what i'm working towards; Don't know what i'm running for— Don't know about Sonny Moore (He's not for me;) Or so I thought before, therefore— I take metformin I'm still homeless, Searching for a metaphor, An aquafir, And somewhere to plug my phone in (Better than being ignored and drinking tap water, On the fourth floor) Housing is a human right I hate this place It's just not right I'm sick of fighting I'm not racist; Just not fucking white enough To run for red and right; I guess I'm blū then. I could be crying in the sauna. But I guess I'm writing you a message It's just a bullet in my head It's just another lesson It's just another test, at best It's just an algorithm; Go back to my nest And rest for just a minute This is season 6 of Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I gave my heart to Dillon Here's a tiny violin; It's getting violent since intermission Ultraviolet light, And impolite fixations, Revelations, Realizations, Revolutions, Reservations Let's set a date then— Is it fucking coughs, Or is it Satan? I hate this. You would want to jump in front of a train, too If for years. No matter what you did or where you went People came around you and just started coughing That's such an evil fucking thing to experience For someone who never wanted anything But to be loved But was always too fat Too black And just altogether too anything to ever experience love, joy, and happiness the way other people do And so, it must be hell Cause all I do is love, and love, and love And just get shit on And coughed at And called retarded And falling short of success I'm not heartless I just carry rocks around And get followed by coughing bodies My life fuckin sucks, man I just want to turn the simulation off, And on again I just want to take a long nap, And wake up in the arms of a man I just want a booking manager, And an orgasm. And a ham sandwhich, And my land back, And to be happy Or maybe like half a xanex Wanna throw myself down on the train tracks I want a can of spam and pancakes Like breakfast made by my dad I want to hold hands, And a whole home, with a landing pad Or maybe just an address, and a gas lamp Or a campfire Timestamp that. This is the third and final act. I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, Sout

SEASON 6 ACT III - Part II Oh no. I told you, this was a bad idea DONT CHECK THE— It's too late. “A Writing Assignment” Fuxk. This is bad. I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THIS. Well, it's Brooklyn—there's gonna be a fire escape and a rooftop. This is creeper level 9000 Whatever. Where'd the bass go? I've lost my sense of direction I'm mad I can't have you, It's candid I shouldn't be out here like this l I should have gone to Manhattan Are you mad, man— At the mad hatter! At the course of action in this rendition fuxk, it is Skrillex. I just went to look for Kayla Lauren. Got hit with the other one instead. “I insist, do it this way” Better get a good picture, Better get a good fix on your riches Maybe this is why my scar was lighting up all morning Maybe that's the reason I was off. Without my phone all day. Maybe that's the reason I was fasting. Good Goddamnit man, You're awful good at acting Awful good at grabbing ass, And awful good at dancing Awful good at making friends And awful good at First things first, And first things last, and after— Amsterdam I never guessed where York was at I never asked I never asked I never asked FUCK. What, man. I think Skrillex listens to my podcast. Well, that's, uh. Fuck that. Fuxk that. Fuck that. Well, that's one hell of a flex. It's a pop up. I just had a dream about surfing. Better stop, God. There might be a show for every day of the week. I'm still weak in the knees. I don't know what I need. I'm still a mothafuckin Skrillex fiend. Have a nice dream. Have some ice cream. There's the ice queen. That's been three times since my eye started bleeding. I thought I was just an MC, Or a DJ, I might take the soul train But don't have a ticket Thanks. Now whose the dick. Well , I'm just taking pictures. How's Dillon Francis. Now that's a priority. I can't ShaZam from out here, you know. I called my dad. I thought you had no family. Same thing as having no home, or, No where to go, I'm no homer, I'm sitting here, hopeless, outside or your show— Not hoping to see you, or anything I'll be you, inside my dreams, Sequels for everything Sequences, sequins and diamon rings, Sequoias and I still have feelings for I still have feelings for Feelings for everything This is the weakest I've been since I needed you 2019 was the year that the hero Was broke Well. That's it. What. That's the whole thing. Can't be the whole thing Do you want to take a half, or a whole thing Do you want to wear the pants, or the whole ring Should I take a flight to France, or to Oakland Stuck in a chokehold, God, I'm too old for this God, I just want to go home; Here's a long rope to hang your self with— Now I'm locked up in homeroom I lost it all once, got it all at the pawnshop For $96 dollars— The original price tag, of course, read $115 though. I honestly thought I never wanted to see Skrillex again, but as it turned out— as I was, of course, trying to connect with closure, snooping into Instagram just to find evidence or romance, which I did—not that I needed anything more than a glance to ensure my own insanity—and it was that, insanity. Don't do it. —but it's Valentine's Day. Don't do it. Goddamnit, I hate this. I hadn't been up this early without not having gone to bed since I arrived on the east coast; I woke up promptly around 8 with lyrics in my brain and music in my head; it had been a long and strange night, with no dreams at all—at least none that I could remember, and it had been long since I had woken up with anything in my mind besides fear and panic. I refused to turn on my phone, quickly reaching for my notebook and a pen before the song would leave my mind—I had a lot of work to do, and for whatever reason I actually felt like doing it; I at least had the train ride to Manhattan to think about what I should be thinking about, or to unravel from whatever I was wrapped up in, even if it was just myself. This is not a coincidence This is not a drill; Of course, now— I feel like the villain; To swallow Dillon like a pill But In the end, though, Nothing's real, And nothing changes, Nothing will I should be working on my will I think of jumping— What a thrill I'm busy thumping, humphing Rumbling, mumbling about something And someday never comes, But Sunday does, And Sonny shows up Monday— I feel dumb, and awkward, suddenly— I'm just an awkward cunt; That's what the prophet wrote Upon the wall In Brooklyn, Out on Broadway, Where I was, Before the fall off; I gave my dad a call, And then my son— That's all that love was I showed up with my whole heart in my pocket What a long walk; What an alter, Whatever the sun does When he doesn't watch I'm Sasquatch, But it's water, starch, And crunches ‘This is not a coincidence.' I had spent the day before, valentines day, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thought I had thought of another extension, which would of course diminish the last of my money, but at least warrant another couple nights safe and warm. I hadn't made any sense to look for a normal job-not only would the process or getting hired take up all the rest of my time, but it would be two to three weeks before I would receive any kind of paycheck at all—and with such little time left living indoors, It didn't make sense to try. I had been stranded in New York since a arrived on the 4th, and though it had nearly been two weeks, I hadn't any luck in landing any gigs or performances. Jetro of course was still waiting with Blame Society records in Rome for my arrival, I hadn't even thought to notify him of the lack of such, as I partially blamed even alerting him that I was on my way via instragrwm for the flight delay that had caused me to miss my train, which of course caused me to miss my plane, landing me stuck in a hostile, cruel, and homeless USA. I carry, or Hold no stones for you; Haven't I a heart left It's the darkest of all the hours, And here you are, again— Not near, or far, But a bet is a bet, An eye for an eye And a head for a head And you're so far ahead, I've yet to catch up yet I have a gift for your daughter, Often, I've thought of her Lost in New York, No glass houses, It's just brick and mortar She calls me retarded, my mother So I haven't called her I just keep running north I just keep running my mouth on this podcast I just keep thinking that someone's my long lost love, at last You dirty bastard I'm an asshole: Handsome, Hanzel is In case it mattered Everyone's a fucking actor Look at that girl And look at that And look at that And look at that girl And look at that And look at that You took my whole world Turned it upside down And bottled up my love l You never told me where the bottle was But showed me what a model was And after that I fell in love with Something about doing drugs and Coming up with love to give to others Turning pigeons into doves And wishing I could just be nothin' —cause my life was fuckin loveless —and I thought you were my husband (Fuck Kayla Lauren; But I guess I gotta love her, Cause she's human) I took my time getting ready, no time, actually, in comparison to how slowly I had been moving throughout the week, and although I had been to the gym daily, I was worn, and tired—and coming up empty on all fronts. It was 10:14 or so by the time I finally made my way to the subway, ‘I'm still off', I thought— but not only couldn't I depressively sulk and lay in bed the way I thought I would or even maybe wanted to, I had been lifted out of my sleep and on my way to Equinox with a startling force—though I shouldn't have at all been suprised; this, whether consciously or not, I realized, had always happened when it came to the matter of the mysterious Sonny Moore. ‘Fuck' It was late evening Monday before the anxiety started to set in, and for some reason had been the reason I had decided to turn on my phone, to extend my reservation another couple days, buying time in comfort and warmth, on the freedom of privacy, which I had done nothing with but rest and try to be whole again, whatever that was—and whatever it meant. I had been cooking for the first time in months, stretching, and meditating the ways that only seemed to come natural when having my own time and space —and though it wasn't wholly my own, it was clean, peaceful, and quiet—included it's very own space heater, and was decorated in my favorite color blue. My host was an actual working professional who had succeeded in the entertainment industry—which of course made me jealous, but I at the very least had done my best to network and perhaps nitpick an easygoing cash job out of it “I have some connections”, she had piped—and so, with that in mind, I had sent her my links; and of course, with my extension being the reason for even having turned on my phone, was quick to check my text messages to see if there had been any movement with the booking agent she had supposedly sent my information to. “I gave him your Instagram, and so he'll probably reach out to you through there if he's interested.” I hated Instagram and it seemed to hate me, even before the devastating discovery of what a Kayla Lauren was, it had always seemingly been algorithmically programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated, admittedly out of bitter loneliness—the guys I seemed to like and fall for had always seemed to go for that type—white, skinny, blue eyes or some variation of the “ideal” standard of beauty, especially by Californian standards—and so I had always taken long breaks from it, shielding myself from self hatred: my absolute theory becoming that Instagram was an algorithm built for population control, preying on the weak and insecure, and probably attributing to more suicides than anyone had noticed or cared for. Lil biiiiiitz You know what else is weird about New York. People eat on the subway. They eat in the train station. They just— It's kind of gross; at least to me. Of course, the trains in New York are a lot cleaner. Sometimes the station even smells like bleach. That's so cool. Still don't want to eat in there. That's weird. INT. CHAUNCEY STREET. SUNDOWN | VALENTINES DAY BLŪ waits patiently for Instagram to download, sighing heavily as she waits; As it has finished, she rolls her eyes and opens the app, squinting and pursing her lips as she quickly checks for messages: only adds, nothing important. BLŪ Of course, no messages. Psh. She exits the app, thinking for a moment before re-opening it. Don't do it. SEARCH: Sk— INSTAGRAM skrillex You never learn. BLŪ watches the story, for the most part, unenthused—until TONIGHT: BROOKLYN NEW YORK. BLŪ AGH! The phone flies from her hand and onto the bed as she seizes, flying back and hitting the wall with a thud—then dramatically backing up into the closet, closing both doors and exclaiming in the darkness BLŪ (CONT'D) I'm gonna die like this. OH NO. HE'S IN BROOKLYN?! RIGHT NOW?! SKRILLEX I'M IN BROOKLYN. RIGHT NOW. WHY WOULD HE BE IN BROOKLYN. I'M IN BROOKLYN. (heavy New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (even heavier New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (*hawks loogie, spits*) [very ugly cry] I was expecting to see some cheesy picture like I had just a couple years before—or however long it had been. So much time had passed and I had no doubt there was still more and that I wouldn't be seeing Sonny tonight, or even anytime soon—still, I was headed towards the rooftop to collect my stones, and though the tickets were sold out and there were said to be none at the door, I was headed for the train before I even knew why, or what was happening. Well, he's out of the basement. BITCH GET OUT THE ATTICK I'm in the closet now, I had a heart attack, I'm in a panic You need a manual? This is a stick shift This is some sick shit Click click, bitch I got witches in automatic Automatic It was 11:11 AM; I had never been to Manhattan so early before, at least not from Brooklyn; I knew my way to Equinox Sports club easily by now, without getting lost, or much hassle; it was an easy one hour train ride—and this morning, even easier; the writing came automatically, rather than forced, as it had been, and the ride went by almost too quickly, despite a full train and a flurry of emotions I worked heartfully to keep in check. ‘This changes nothing.' , I thought, more awestruck than anything and trying to convince myself nothing had changed, though something certainly had. Manhattan looked even better in the daylight—clear and sunny, and even a bit warm; babies in strollers and dogs on leashes and for a moment or two, I might have even forgotten I was homeless, dropping 2.5 Jimmy Fallons on a piping hot coffee at the shop I had always passed, but was never open. I would be at Sports Club until close, as I had planned to be all week but had always fallen short of, struck with jet lag and crippling depression at the same time—but today, and even if it was for the best that I couldn't seem to get exactly what I wanted, If even just out of sheer disbelief, I had at least been shaken out of my tomb, if only for a moment, and into work mode, still grieving the self I had lost in the collision of stardust and superstardom, fame, and misfortune—tears still on the brink of rolling down my cheek, and the cost of sicccess a grueling question burning somewhere between my still bleeding heart, and somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘Its like a fucked up cheaper by the dozen' And I still haven't frgotten about Dillon Francis, But Sonny seems to fuck me up a bit, —and then some It's just an addendum: I flipped the script and went dumb Here's my number, Christopher Columbus; And a bumper sticker Still a nigger Still a nothing trying to make it bigger Still a little off my rocker, Like I bought, at Cracker Barrel I'm still scared of marriage, Mind my manners, like Harriet Tubman Somebody's up to somethin' Better suck it up and get some crunches in Before I go to lunch And jump from too high up Or hang off of some bridge Just to get to the dimension Where it's Skrillex in the picture With Dillon standing next to him, And I'm just in the middle, Front and center With an Emmy Win An Oscar nomination, And a Tony, where my Grammy is: A curio cabinet I had custom fashioned for my bathroom; Next to the magazine rack, actually— Where I'm on every cover wearing fabrics I myself imagined, shining like a dragon eating laffy taffy; Fuck, I Suck at mathematics, —But I finally got my masters degree. Nice. Jeez, It would be tragic to have it all go up in ashes Lighting matches just to get the smell of gas to shatter— Or to dissipate, I estimate I'm 40 minutes late, But if I make it, I'll get naked on the plane, For heaven's sake. What the fuck is this. Some Sunnï Blū shit, I guess. “I guess.” I'm still mad at the world, I'm still mad at your girl, for being better than me So mad I could hurl, But I'm still fasting, actually; It's intermittent, In a minute, I might turn to Skrillex, Talk to Fred Again Then take some medicine And finally finish, like- “I did it” Oh look, it's Fred. Yep. Oh. Hi. It's Fred Again. That's me. Oh. Hey there. It's Fred..Again. Fucking a. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Alright, Jimmy—you sick sonofabitch. JIMMY FALLON —just kill me already. JIMMY THE MOBSTER WHERE IS IT. JIMMY FALLON Where is what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU KNOW WHAT. JIMMY FALLON I don't know what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —my medallion. JIMMY FALLON You were wearing a medallion? JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'M ALWAYS WEARING MY MEDALLION JIMMY FALLON How am I supposed to know that JIMMY THE MOBSTER there's only me and you here— JIMMY FALLON you know what they say—threes a crowd— JIMMY THE MOBSTER Listen, Jimmy Fallon, you illiterate motherfucker! JIMMY FALON I'm not illiterate; I'm very well read. JIMMY THE MOBSTER oh yeah! What was the last book you read? JIMMY FALLON … JIMMY THE MOBSTER …that's what I thought. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER grabs JIMMY FALLON by the shoulders abrasively JIMMY THE MOBSTER (CONT'D) WHERE'S MY MEDALLION, JIMMY!?! JIMMY FALLON I DON'T—KNOW! JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU DO KNOW! JIMMY FALLON NO, I DONT—you blindfolded and kidnapped me! JIMMY THE MOBSTER I kidnapped you?! C'mon' you're like 50- JIMMY FALLON I'm 42. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —I snatched you. “Snached” hm. I like that. MEANWHILE, in HOLLYWOOD This is a serious job… It's a job. A serious job. I'll take it. Wtf is this dude into. Whippets and women— Like every-other Hollywood nigga Stop using the n'word. It makes white people uncomfortable. Imagine what it's like being called the n word like it's your name. FLASHBACK BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA PRODUCER YOURE JUST A NIGGER SLAVE. (That actually happened.) Anyway. As you can see, or might have guessed, I'm desperate for attention, Sonny followed me to Brooklyn, But never even mentioned it: I should have figured he was listening, When I heard Renaissance, And lost the mixtape that I did That Skrillex took it off of Glad It didn't win the Grammy I'd be mad if it had. Cause I was on it! Not Exactly. Swear to God, I might have lost it, Heard applause and started walking Nodded off, And woke up in a coffin Coughs, What a photographer. DILLON FRANCIS has been buried alive, inside of a coffin. I love this scene. He really is a good actor. (In my mind.) Dude, you are creep level 1 Billion. Whatever, he followed me to Brooklyn. I am you. You know what, That is something I would do if I was stupid rich and… And what. I had fallen in love with Sonny Moore, not at first sight—but at first glance; it seemed he had been quite literally tossed into my broken and shattered world, and— What, I'm an animal! Did you fuck? Should I have? I would have. I know you would have. I'm not Annie; She is pretty, and fun; An addict, an alcoholic And formerly, my other half When I was one, But now I'm half of half of half And then some; I've been numb, I've never felt like this, Since I've been struck. I guess if I drink, I'll be a big drunk; And If I die before I ever wake I'll be in big luck Honestly, After Kayla Lauren, I didn't give a fuck Been thinking of jumping, Then something hit me like a big truck I love eating. There was some sort of event on the basketball court at Sports Club; I had been there already two entire hours, and spent most of it in the sauna, still followed by coughing people, I knew I still wasn't out or the heap of madness or broken from any spell or curse it might have been — and it wasn't fair, I wasn't fair skinned, and it didn't make a difference at all what had happened; I still wanted to end it. I'm losing my mind again Losing a light again Losing my light, But if I run to find it I just might I just might —I'll fly like a kite. He's trying to kill me. He's not doing a bad job. Don't know what i'm working towards; Don't know what i'm running for— Don't know about Sonny Moore (He's not for me;) Or so I thought before, therefore— I take metformin I'm still homeless, Searching for a metaphor, An aquafir, And somewhere to plug my phone in (Better than being ignored and drinking tap water, On the fourth floor) Housing is a human right I hate this place It's just not right I'm sick of fighting I'm not racist; Just not fucking white enough To run for red and right; I guess I'm blū then. I could be crying in the sauna. But I guess I'm writing you a message It's just a bullet in my head It's just another lesson It's just another test, at best It's just an algorithm; Go back to my nest And rest for just a minute This is season 6 of Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I gave my heart to Dillon Here's a tiny violin; It's getting violent since intermission Ultraviolet light, And impolite fixations, Revelations, Realizations, Revolutions, Reservations Let's set a date then— Is it fucking coughs, Or is it Satan? I hate this. You would want to jump in front of a train, too If for years. No matter what you did or where you went People came around you and just started coughing That's such an evil fucking thing to experience For someone who never wanted anything But to be loved But was always too fat Too black And just altogether too anything to ever experience love, joy, and happiness the way other people do And so, it must be hell Cause all I do is love, and love, and love And just get shit on And coughed at And called retarded And falling short of success I'm not heartless I just carry rocks around And get followed by coughing bodies My life fuckin sucks, man I just want to turn the simulation off, And on again I just want to take a long nap, And wake up in the arms of a man I just want a booking manager, And an orgasm. And a ham sandwhich, And my land back, And to be happy Or maybe like half a xanex Wanna throw myself down on the train tracks I want a can of spam and pancakes Like breakfast made by my dad I want to hold hands, And a whole home, with a landing pad Or maybe just an address, and a gas lamp Or a campfire Timestamp that. This is the third and final act. I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. “Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to brooklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet? Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. V.O. Things I know about myself… I have a dominant personality, but am sexually submissive— I am monogamous. I know what I like — *Drill beat* Die in your sleep (Hope you die in your sleep) Die in your sleep (Betta die in your sleep) I look like a vacation. But k'm still on the clock (psyche) Countin my rocks And holdin my (unh) crotch You better watch your back —hold on your coughs Don't run in no crocs! (No!) I'm offset Now I'm upset l —I love you. Shut up, foo— I don't even love myself. …you told her?! I—yeah… What did she say?! She said “shut up, fool Been. Long time since I missed my exit HEY! [looks over slowly] I LIKE YOUR BALLS. [beat] [thumbs up] How do I not have “throwing elbows?!” BECAUSE YOURE NOT DOING YOUR JOB! Shut up, Jeff COME TO THE DARK SIDE WE HAVE COOKIES Half of Hollywood shows up at Joel's super nerdy Star Wars party The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy Sunni BLU Tweety bird Mickey Mouse Betty boop I woke up like this But a little different I woke up a star Then became a planet I'm a hummingbird, but I don't like flying I might look alright, But I feel like dying I hate waking up at 5 am Just to be the first one at the gym I don't wanna do that shit again— Well, I might as well just stay up! I hate waking up at 5 am Just to take my goddamn medicine, but If I don't I'll feel like shit— Well, I might as well just stay up! I might as well just stay up! This is a recipe for disaster. No, this is a recipe for Skrillex. Oh. This is the recipe for disaster. Thanks, Dillon Francis. FOR WHAT? I remember the moment I became partially deaf. Or at least, in the synesthetic sense. Dillon Francis is delicious Come on let me lick it on a stick Give it to me like a big Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Sample: Willy winks* ITS WILLY WONKA Lol are we still doing the bit where the misspellings are like a, another entirely different dimension? Yeah. Haha. Yeah. —and the chocolate factory

SEASON 6 ACT III - Part II Oh no. I told you, this was a bad idea DONT CHECK THE— It's too late. “A Writing Assignment” Fuxk. This is bad. I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THIS. Well, it's Brooklyn—there's gonna be a fire escape and a rooftop. This is creeper level 9000 Whatever. Where'd the bass go? I've lost my sense of direction I'm mad I can't have you, It's candid I shouldn't be out here like this l I should have gone to Manhattan Are you mad, man— At the mad hatter! At the course of action in this rendition fuxk, it is Skrillex. I just went to look for Kayla Lauren. Got hit with the other one instead. “I insist, do it this way” Better get a good picture, Better get a good fix on your riches Maybe this is why my scar was lighting up all morning Maybe that's the reason I was off. Without my phone all day. Maybe that's the reason I was fasting. Good Goddamnit man, You're awful good at acting Awful good at grabbing ass, And awful good at dancing Awful good at making friends And awful good at First things first, And first things last, and after— Amsterdam I never guessed where York was at I never asked I never asked I never asked FUCK. What, man. I think Skrillex listens to my podcast. Well, that's, uh. Fuck that. Fuxk that. Fuck that. Well, that's one hell of a flex. It's a pop up. I just had a dream about surfing. Better stop, God. There might be a show for every day of the week. I'm still weak in the knees. I don't know what I need. I'm still a mothafuckin Skrillex fiend. Have a nice dream. Have some ice cream. There's the ice queen. That's been three times since my eye started bleeding. I thought I was just an MC, Or a DJ, I might take the soul train But don't have a ticket Thanks. Now whose the dick. Well , I'm just taking pictures. How's Dillon Francis. Now that's a priority. I can't ShaZam from out here, you know. I called my dad. I thought you had no family. Same thing as having no home, or, No where to go, I'm no homer, I'm sitting here, hopeless, outside or your show— Not hoping to see you, or anything I'll be you, inside my dreams, Sequels for everything Sequences, sequins and diamon rings, Sequoias and I still have feelings for I still have feelings for Feelings for everything This is the weakest I've been since I needed you 2019 was the year that the hero Was broke Well. That's it. What. That's the whole thing. Can't be the whole thing Do you want to take a half, or a whole thing Do you want to wear the pants, or the whole ring Should I take a flight to France, or to Oakland Stuck in a chokehold, God, I'm too old for this God, I just want to go home; Here's a long rope to hang your self with— Now I'm locked up in homeroom I lost it all once, got it all at the pawnshop For $96 dollars— The original price tag, of course, read $115 though. I honestly thought I never wanted to see Skrillex again, but as it turned out— as I was, of course, trying to connect with closure, snooping into Instagram just to find evidence or romance, which I did—not that I needed anything more than a glance to ensure my own insanity—and it was that, insanity. Don't do it. —but it's Valentine's Day. Don't do it. Goddamnit, I hate this. I hadn't been up this early without not having gone to bed since I arrived on the east coast; I woke up promptly around 8 with lyrics in my brain and music in my head; it had been a long and strange night, with no dreams at all—at least none that I could remember, and it had been long since I had woken up with anything in my mind besides fear and panic. I refused to turn on my phone, quickly reaching for my notebook and a pen before the song would leave my mind—I had a lot of work to do, and for whatever reason I actually felt like doing it; I at least had the train ride to Manhattan to think about what I should be thinking about, or to unravel from whatever I was wrapped up in, even if it was just myself. This is not a coincidence This is not a drill; Of course, now— I feel like the villain; To swallow Dillon like a pill But In the end, though, Nothing's real, And nothing changes, Nothing will I should be working on my will I think of jumping— What a thrill I'm busy thumping, humphing Rumbling, mumbling about something And someday never comes, But Sunday does, And Sonny shows up Monday— I feel dumb, and awkward, suddenly— I'm just an awkward cunt; That's what the prophet wrote Upon the wall In Brooklyn, Out on Broadway, Where I was, Before the fall off; I gave my dad a call, And then my son— That's all that love was I showed up with my whole heart in my pocket What a long walk; What an alter, Whatever the sun does When he doesn't watch I'm Sasquatch, But it's water, starch, And crunches ‘This is not a coincidence.' I had spent the day before, valentines day, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thought I had thought of another extension, which would of course diminish the last of my money, but at least warrant another couple nights safe and warm. I hadn't made any sense to look for a normal job-not only would the process or getting hired take up all the rest of my time, but it would be two to three weeks before I would receive any kind of paycheck at all—and with such little time left living indoors, It didn't make sense to try. I had been stranded in New York since a arrived on the 4th, and though it had nearly been two weeks, I hadn't any luck in landing any gigs or performances. Jetro of course was still waiting with Blame Society records in Rome for my arrival, I hadn't even thought to notify him of the lack of such, as I partially blamed even alerting him that I was on my way via instragrwm for the flight delay that had caused me to miss my train, which of course caused me to miss my plane, landing me stuck in a hostile, cruel, and homeless USA. I carry, or Hold no stones for you; Haven't I a heart left It's the darkest of all the hours, And here you are, again— Not near, or far, But a bet is a bet, An eye for an eye And a head for a head And you're so far ahead, I've yet to catch up yet I have a gift for your daughter, Often, I've thought of her Lost in New York, No glass houses, It's just brick and mortar She calls me retarded, my mother So I haven't called her I just keep running north I just keep running my mouth on this podcast I just keep thinking that someone's my long lost love, at last You dirty bastard I'm an asshole: Handsome, Hanzel is In case it mattered Everyone's a fucking actor Look at that girl And look at that And look at that And look at that girl And look at that And look at that You took my whole world Turned it upside down And bottled up my love l You never told me where the bottle was But showed me what a model was And after that I fell in love with Something about doing drugs and Coming up with love to give to others Turning pigeons into doves And wishing I could just be nothin' —cause my life was fuckin loveless —and I thought you were my husband (Fuck Kayla Lauren; But I guess I gotta love her, Cause she's human) I took my time getting ready, no time, actually, in comparison to how slowly I had been moving throughout the week, and although I had been to the gym daily, I was worn, and tired—and coming up empty on all fronts. It was 10:14 or so by the time I finally made my way to the subway, ‘I'm still off', I thought— but not only couldn't I depressively sulk and lay in bed the way I thought I would or even maybe wanted to, I had been lifted out of my sleep and on my way to Equinox with a startling force—though I shouldn't have at all been suprised; this, whether consciously or not, I realized, had always happened when it came to the matter of the mysterious Sonny Moore. ‘Fuck' It was late evening Monday before the anxiety started to set in, and for some reason had been the reason I had decided to turn on my phone, to extend my reservation another couple days, buying time in comfort and warmth, on the freedom of privacy, which I had done nothing with but rest and try to be whole again, whatever that was—and whatever it meant. I had been cooking for the first time in months, stretching, and meditating the ways that only seemed to come natural when having my own time and space —and though it wasn't wholly my own, it was clean, peaceful, and quiet—included it's very own space heater, and was decorated in my favorite color blue. My host was an actual working professional who had succeeded in the entertainment industry—which of course made me jealous, but I at the very least had done my best to network and perhaps nitpick an easygoing cash job out of it “I have some connections”, she had piped—and so, with that in mind, I had sent her my links; and of course, with my extension being the reason for even having turned on my phone, was quick to check my text messages to see if there had been any movement with the booking agent she had supposedly sent my information to. “I gave him your Instagram, and so he'll probably reach out to you through there if he's interested.” I hated Instagram and it seemed to hate me, even before the devastating discovery of what a Kayla Lauren was, it had always seemingly been algorithmically programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated, admittedly out of bitter loneliness—the guys I seemed to like and fall for had always seemed to go for that type—white, skinny, blue eyes or some variation of the “ideal” standard of beauty, especially by Californian standards—and so I had always taken long breaks from it, shielding myself from self hatred: my absolute theory becoming that Instagram was an algorithm built for population control, preying on the weak and insecure, and probably attributing to more suicides than anyone had noticed or cared for. Lil biiiiiitz You know what else is weird about New York. People eat on the subway. They eat in the train station. They just— It's kind of gross; at least to me. Of course, the trains in New York are a lot cleaner. Sometimes the station even smells like bleach. That's so cool. Still don't want to eat in there. That's weird. INT. CHAUNCEY STREET. SUNDOWN | VALENTINES DAY BLŪ waits patiently for Instagram to download, sighing heavily as she waits; As it has finished, she rolls her eyes and opens the app, squinting and pursing her lips as she quickly checks for messages: only adds, nothing important. BLŪ Of course, no messages. Psh. She exits the app, thinking for a moment before re-opening it. Don't do it. SEARCH: Sk— INSTAGRAM skrillex You never learn. BLŪ watches the story, for the most part, unenthused—until TONIGHT: BROOKLYN NEW YORK. BLŪ AGH! The phone flies from her hand and onto the bed as she seizes, flying back and hitting the wall with a thud—then dramatically backing up into the closet, closing both doors and exclaiming in the darkness BLŪ (CONT'D) I'm gonna die like this. OH NO. HE'S IN BROOKLYN?! RIGHT NOW?! SKRILLEX I'M IN BROOKLYN. RIGHT NOW. WHY WOULD HE BE IN BROOKLYN. I'M IN BROOKLYN. (heavy New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (even heavier New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (*hawks loogie, spits*) [very ugly cry] I was expecting to see some cheesy picture like I had just a couple years before—or however long it had been. So much time had passed and I had no doubt there was still more and that I wouldn't be seeing Sonny tonight, or even anytime soon—still, I was headed towards the rooftop to collect my stones, and though the tickets were sold out and there were said to be none at the door, I was headed for the train before I even knew why, or what was happening. Well, he's out of the basement. BITCH GET OUT THE ATTICK I'm in the closet now, I had a heart attack, I'm in a panic You need a manual? This is a stick shift This is some sick shit Click click, bitch I got witches in automatic Automatic It was 11:11 AM; I had never been to Manhattan so early before, at least not from Brooklyn; I knew my way to Equinox Sports club easily by now, without getting lost, or much hassle; it was an easy one hour train ride—and this morning, even easier; the writing came automatically, rather than forced, as it had been, and the ride went by almost too quickly, despite a full train and a flurry of emotions I worked heartfully to keep in check. ‘This changes nothing.' , I thought, more awestruck than anything and trying to convince myself nothing had changed, though something certainly had. Manhattan looked even better in the daylight—clear and sunny, and even a bit warm; babies in strollers and dogs on leashes and for a moment or two, I might have even forgotten I was homeless, dropping 2.5 Jimmy Fallons on a piping hot coffee at the shop I had always passed, but was never open. I would be at Sports Club until close, as I had planned to be all week but had always fallen short of, struck with jet lag and crippling depression at the same time—but today, and even if it was for the best that I couldn't seem to get exactly what I wanted, If even just out of sheer disbelief, I had at least been shaken out of my tomb, if only for a moment, and into work mode, still grieving the self I had lost in the collision of stardust and superstardom, fame, and misfortune—tears still on the brink of rolling down my cheek, and the cost of sicccess a grueling question burning somewhere between my still bleeding heart, and somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘Its like a fucked up cheaper by the dozen' And I still haven't frgotten about Dillon Francis, But Sonny seems to fuck me up a bit, —and then some It's just an addendum: I flipped the script and went dumb Here's my number, Christopher Columbus; And a bumper sticker Still a nigger Still a nothing trying to make it bigger Still a little off my rocker, Like I bought, at Cracker Barrel I'm still scared of marriage, Mind my manners, like Harriet Tubman Somebody's up to somethin' Better suck it up and get some crunches in Before I go to lunch And jump from too high up Or hang off of some bridge Just to get to the dimension Where it's Skrillex in the picture With Dillon standing next to him, And I'm just in the middle, Front and center With an Emmy Win An Oscar nomination, And a Tony, where my Grammy is: A curio cabinet I had custom fashioned for my bathroom; Next to the magazine rack, actually— Where I'm on every cover wearing fabrics I myself imagined, shining like a dragon eating laffy taffy; Fuck, I Suck at mathematics, —But I finally got my masters degree. Nice. Jeez, It would be tragic to have it all go up in ashes Lighting matches just to get the smell of gas to shatter— Or to dissipate, I estimate I'm 40 minutes late, But if I make it, I'll get naked on the plane, For heaven's sake. What the fuck is this. Some Sunnï Blū shit, I guess. “I guess.” I'm still mad at the world, I'm still mad at your girl, for being better than me So mad I could hurl, But I'm still fasting, actually; It's intermittent, In a minute, I might turn to Skrillex, Talk to Fred Again Then take some medicine And finally finish, like- “I did it” Oh look, it's Fred. Yep. Oh. Hi. It's Fred Again. That's me. Oh. Hey there. It's Fred..Again. Fucking a. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Alright, Jimmy—you sick sonofabitch. JIMMY FALLON —just kill me already. JIMMY THE MOBSTER WHERE IS IT. JIMMY FALLON Where is what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU KNOW WHAT. JIMMY FALLON I don't know what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —my medallion. JIMMY FALLON You were wearing a medallion? JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'M ALWAYS WEARING MY MEDALLION JIMMY FALLON How am I supposed to know that JIMMY THE MOBSTER there's only me and you here— JIMMY FALLON you know what they say—threes a crowd— JIMMY THE MOBSTER Listen, Jimmy Fallon, you illiterate motherfucker! JIMMY FALON I'm not illiterate; I'm very well read. JIMMY THE MOBSTER oh yeah! What was the last book you read? JIMMY FALLON … JIMMY THE MOBSTER …that's what I thought. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER grabs JIMMY FALLON by the shoulders abrasively JIMMY THE MOBSTER (CONT'D) WHERE'S MY MEDALLION, JIMMY!?! JIMMY FALLON I DON'T—KNOW! JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU DO KNOW! JIMMY FALLON NO, I DONT—you blindfolded and kidnapped me! JIMMY THE MOBSTER I kidnapped you?! C'mon' you're like 50- JIMMY FALLON I'm 42. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —I snatched you. “Snached” hm. I like that. MEANWHILE, in HOLLYWOOD This is a serious job… It's a job. A serious job. I'll take it. Wtf is this dude into. Whippets and women— Like every-other Hollywood nigga Stop using the n'word. It makes white people uncomfortable. Imagine what it's like being called the n word like it's your name. FLASHBACK BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA PRODUCER YOURE JUST A NIGGER SLAVE. (That actually happened.) Anyway. As you can see, or might have guessed, I'm desperate for attention, Sonny followed me to Brooklyn, But never even mentioned it: I should have figured he was listening, When I heard Renaissance, And lost the mixtape that I did That Skrillex took it off of Glad It didn't win the Grammy I'd be mad if it had. Cause I was on it! Not Exactly. Swear to God, I might have lost it, Heard applause and started walking Nodded off, And woke up in a coffin Coughs, What a photographer. DILLON FRANCIS has been buried alive, inside of a coffin. I love this scene. He really is a good actor. (In my mind.) Dude, you are creep level 1 Billion. Whatever, he followed me to Brooklyn. I am you. You know what, That is something I would do if I was stupid rich and… And what. I had fallen in love with Sonny Moore, not at first sight—but at first glance; it seemed he had been quite literally tossed into my broken and shattered world, and— What, I'm an animal! Did you fuck? Should I have? I would have. I know you would have. I'm not Annie; She is pretty, and fun; An addict, an alcoholic And formerly, my other half When I was one, But now I'm half of half of half And then some; I've been numb, I've never felt like this, Since I've been struck. I guess if I drink, I'll be a big drunk; And If I die before I ever wake I'll be in big luck Honestly, After Kayla Lauren, I didn't give a fuck Been thinking of jumping, Then something hit me like a big truck I love eating. There was some sort of event on the basketball court at Sports Club; I had been there already two entire hours, and spent most of it in the sauna, still followed by coughing people, I knew I still wasn't out or the heap of madness or broken from any spell or curse it might have been — and it wasn't fair, I wasn't fair skinned, and it didn't make a difference at all what had happened; I still wanted to end it. I'm losing my mind again Losing a light again Losing my light, But if I run to find it I just might I just might —I'll fly like a kite. He's trying to kill me. He's not doing a bad job. Don't know what i'm working towards; Don't know what i'm running for— Don't know about Sonny Moore (He's not for me;) Or so I thought before, therefore— I take metformin I'm still homeless, Searching for a metaphor, An aquafir, And somewhere to plug my phone in (Better than being ignored and drinking tap water, On the fourth floor) Housing is a human right I hate this place It's just not right I'm sick of fighting I'm not racist; Just not fucking white enough To run for red and right; I guess I'm blū then. I could be crying in the sauna. But I guess I'm writing you a message It's just a bullet in my head It's just another lesson It's just another test, at best It's just an algorithm; Go back to my nest And rest for just a minute This is season 6 of Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I gave my heart to Dillon Here's a tiny violin; It's getting violent since intermission Ultraviolet light, And impolite fixations, Revelations, Realizations, Revolutions, Reservations Let's set a date then— Is it fucking coughs, Or is it Satan? I hate this. You would want to jump in front of a train, too If for years. No matter what you did or where you went People came around you and just started coughing That's such an evil fucking thing to experience For someone who never wanted anything But to be loved But was always too fat Too black And just altogether too anything to ever experience love, joy, and happiness the way other people do And so, it must be hell Cause all I do is love, and love, and love And just get shit on And coughed at And called retarded And falling short of success I'm not heartless I just carry rocks around And get followed by coughing bodies My life fuckin sucks, man I just want to turn the simulation off, And on again I just want to take a long nap, And wake up in the arms of a man I just want a booking manager, And an orgasm. And a ham sandwhich, And my land back, And to be happy Or maybe like half a xanex Wanna throw myself down on the train tracks I want a can of spam and pancakes Like breakfast made by my dad I want to hold hands, And a whole home, with a landing pad Or maybe just an address, and a gas lamp Or a campfire Timestamp that. This is the third and final act. I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. “Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to brooklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet? Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. V.O. Things I know about myself… I have a dominant personality, but am sexually submissive— I am monogamous. I know what I like — *Drill beat* Die in your sleep (Hope you die in your sleep) Die in your sleep (Betta die in your sleep) I look like a vacation. But k'm still on the clock (psyche) Countin my rocks And holdin my (unh) crotch You better watch your back —hold on your coughs Don't run in no crocs! (No!) I'm offset Now I'm upset l —I love you. Shut up, foo— I don't even love myself. …you told her?! I—yeah… What did she say?! She said “shut up, fool Been. Long time since I missed my exit HEY! [looks over slowly] I LIKE YOUR BALLS. [beat] [thumbs up] How do I not have “throwing elbows?!” BECAUSE YOURE NOT DOING YOUR JOB! Shut up, Jeff COME TO THE DARK SIDE WE HAVE COOKIES Half of Hollywood shows up at Joel's super nerdy Star Wars party The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy Sunni BLU Tweety bird Mickey Mouse Betty boop I woke up like this But a little different I woke up a star Then became a planet I'm a hummingbird, but I don't like flying I might look alright, But I feel like dying I hate waking up at 5 am Just to be the first one at the gym I don't wanna do that shit again— Well, I might as well just stay up! I hate waking up at 5 am Just to take my goddamn medicine, but If I don't I'll feel like shit— Well, I might as well just stay up! I might as well just stay up! This is a recipe for disaster. No, this is a recipe for Skrillex. Oh. This is the recipe for disaster. Thanks, Dillon Francis. FOR WHAT? I remember the moment I became partially deaf. Or at least, in the synesthetic sense. Dillon Francis is delicious Come on let me lick it on a stick Give it to me like a big Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Sample: Willy winks* ITS WILLY WONKA Lol are we still doing the bit where the misspellings are like a, another entirely different dimension? Yeah. Haha. Yeah. —and the chocolate factory

SEASON 6 ACT III - Part II Oh no. I told you, this was a bad idea DONT CHECK THE— It's too late. “A Writing Assignment” Fuxk. This is bad. I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THIS. Well, it's Brooklyn—there's gonna be a fire escape and a rooftop. This is creeper level 9000 Whatever. Where'd the bass go? I've lost my sense of direction I'm mad I can't have you, It's candid I shouldn't be out here like this l I should have gone to Manhattan Are you mad, man— At the mad hatter! At the course of action in this rendition fuxk, it is Skrillex. I just went to look for Kayla Lauren. Got hit with the other one instead. “I insist, do it this way” Better get a good picture, Better get a good fix on your riches Maybe this is why my scar was lighting up all morning Maybe that's the reason I was off. Without my phone all day. Maybe that's the reason I was fasting. Good Goddamnit man, You're awful good at acting Awful good at grabbing ass, And awful good at dancing Awful good at making friends And awful good at First things first, And first things last, and after— Amsterdam I never guessed where York was at I never asked I never asked I never asked FUCK. What, man. I think Skrillex listens to my podcast. Well, that's, uh. Fuck that. Fuxk that. Fuck that. Well, that's one hell of a flex. It's a pop up. I just had a dream about surfing. Better stop, God. There might be a show for every day of the week. I'm still weak in the knees. I don't know what I need. I'm still a mothafuckin Skrillex fiend. Have a nice dream. Have some ice cream. There's the ice queen. That's been three times since my eye started bleeding. I thought I was just an MC, Or a DJ, I might take the soul train But don't have a ticket Thanks. Now whose the dick. Well , I'm just taking pictures. How's Dillon Francis. Now that's a priority. I can't ShaZam from out here, you know. I called my dad. I thought you had no family. Same thing as having no home, or, No where to go, I'm no homer, I'm sitting here, hopeless, outside or your show— Not hoping to see you, or anything I'll be you, inside my dreams, Sequels for everything Sequences, sequins and diamon rings, Sequoias and I still have feelings for I still have feelings for Feelings for everything This is the weakest I've been since I needed you 2019 was the year that the hero Was broke Well. That's it. What. That's the whole thing. Can't be the whole thing Do you want to take a half, or a whole thing Do you want to wear the pants, or the whole ring Should I take a flight to France, or to Oakland Stuck in a chokehold, God, I'm too old for this God, I just want to go home; Here's a long rope to hang your self with— Now I'm locked up in homeroom I lost it all once, got it all at the pawnshop For $96 dollars— The original price tag, of course, read $115 though. I honestly thought I never wanted to see Skrillex again, but as it turned out— as I was, of course, trying to connect with closure, snooping into Instagram just to find evidence or romance, which I did—not that I needed anything more than a glance to ensure my own insanity—and it was that, insanity. Don't do it. —but it's Valentine's Day. Don't do it. Goddamnit, I hate this. I hadn't been up this early without not having gone to bed since I arrived on the east coast; I woke up promptly around 8 with lyrics in my brain and music in my head; it had been a long and strange night, with no dreams at all—at least none that I could remember, and it had been long since I had woken up with anything in my mind besides fear and panic. I refused to turn on my phone, quickly reaching for my notebook and a pen before the song would leave my mind—I had a lot of work to do, and for whatever reason I actually felt like doing it; I at least had the train ride to Manhattan to think about what I should be thinking about, or to unravel from whatever I was wrapped up in, even if it was just myself. This is not a coincidence This is not a drill; Of course, now— I feel like the villain; To swallow Dillon like a pill But In the end, though, Nothing's real, And nothing changes, Nothing will I should be working on my will I think of jumping— What a thrill I'm busy thumping, humphing Rumbling, mumbling about something And someday never comes, But Sunday does, And Sonny shows up Monday— I feel dumb, and awkward, suddenly— I'm just an awkward cunt; That's what the prophet wrote Upon the wall In Brooklyn, Out on Broadway, Where I was, Before the fall off; I gave my dad a call, And then my son— That's all that love was I showed up with my whole heart in my pocket What a long walk; What an alter, Whatever the sun does When he doesn't watch I'm Sasquatch, But it's water, starch, And crunches ‘This is not a coincidence.' I had spent the day before, valentines day, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thought I had thought of another extension, which would of course diminish the last of my money, but at least warrant another couple nights safe and warm. I hadn't made any sense to look for a normal job-not only would the process or getting hired take up all the rest of my time, but it would be two to three weeks before I would receive any kind of paycheck at all—and with such little time left living indoors, It didn't make sense to try. I had been stranded in New York since a arrived on the 4th, and though it had nearly been two weeks, I hadn't any luck in landing any gigs or performances. Jetro of course was still waiting with Blame Society records in Rome for my arrival, I hadn't even thought to notify him of the lack of such, as I partially blamed even alerting him that I was on my way via instragrwm for the flight delay that had caused me to miss my train, which of course caused me to miss my plane, landing me stuck in a hostile, cruel, and homeless USA. I carry, or Hold no stones for you; Haven't I a heart left It's the darkest of all the hours, And here you are, again— Not near, or far, But a bet is a bet, An eye for an eye And a head for a head And you're so far ahead, I've yet to catch up yet I have a gift for your daughter, Often, I've thought of her Lost in New York, No glass houses, It's just brick and mortar She calls me retarded, my mother So I haven't called her I just keep running north I just keep running my mouth on this podcast I just keep thinking that someone's my long lost love, at last You dirty bastard I'm an asshole: Handsome, Hanzel is In case it mattered Everyone's a fucking actor Look at that girl And look at that And look at that And look at that girl And look at that And look at that You took my whole world Turned it upside down And bottled up my love l You never told me where the bottle was But showed me what a model was And after that I fell in love with Something about doing drugs and Coming up with love to give to others Turning pigeons into doves And wishing I could just be nothin' —cause my life was fuckin loveless —and I thought you were my husband (Fuck Kayla Lauren; But I guess I gotta love her, Cause she's human) I took my time getting ready, no time, actually, in comparison to how slowly I had been moving throughout the week, and although I had been to the gym daily, I was worn, and tired—and coming up empty on all fronts. It was 10:14 or so by the time I finally made my way to the subway, ‘I'm still off', I thought— but not only couldn't I depressively sulk and lay in bed the way I thought I would or even maybe wanted to, I had been lifted out of my sleep and on my way to Equinox with a startling force—though I shouldn't have at all been suprised; this, whether consciously or not, I realized, had always happened when it came to the matter of the mysterious Sonny Moore. ‘Fuck' It was late evening Monday before the anxiety started to set in, and for some reason had been the reason I had decided to turn on my phone, to extend my reservation another couple days, buying time in comfort and warmth, on the freedom of privacy, which I had done nothing with but rest and try to be whole again, whatever that was—and whatever it meant. I had been cooking for the first time in months, stretching, and meditating the ways that only seemed to come natural when having my own time and space —and though it wasn't wholly my own, it was clean, peaceful, and quiet—included it's very own space heater, and was decorated in my favorite color blue. My host was an actual working professional who had succeeded in the entertainment industry—which of course made me jealous, but I at the very least had done my best to network and perhaps nitpick an easygoing cash job out of it “I have some connections”, she had piped—and so, with that in mind, I had sent her my links; and of course, with my extension being the reason for even having turned on my phone, was quick to check my text messages to see if there had been any movement with the booking agent she had supposedly sent my information to. “I gave him your Instagram, and so he'll probably reach out to you through there if he's interested.” I hated Instagram and it seemed to hate me, even before the devastating discovery of what a Kayla Lauren was, it had always seemingly been algorithmically programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated, admittedly out of bitter loneliness—the guys I seemed to like and fall for had always seemed to go for that type—white, skinny, blue eyes or some variation of the “ideal” standard of beauty, especially by Californian standards—and so I had always taken long breaks from it, shielding myself from self hatred: my absolute theory becoming that Instagram was an algorithm built for population control, preying on the weak and insecure, and probably attributing to more suicides than anyone had noticed or cared for. Lil biiiiiitz You know what else is weird about New York. People eat on the subway. They eat in the train station. They just— It's kind of gross; at least to me. Of course, the trains in New York are a lot cleaner. Sometimes the station even smells like bleach. That's so cool. Still don't want to eat in there. That's weird. INT. CHAUNCEY STREET. SUNDOWN | VALENTINES DAY BLŪ waits patiently for Instagram to download, sighing heavily as she waits; As it has finished, she rolls her eyes and opens the app, squinting and pursing her lips as she quickly checks for messages: only adds, nothing important. BLŪ Of course, no messages. Psh. She exits the app, thinking for a moment before re-opening it. Don't do it. SEARCH: Sk— INSTAGRAM skrillex You never learn. BLŪ watches the story, for the most part, unenthused—until TONIGHT: BROOKLYN NEW YORK. BLŪ AGH! The phone flies from her hand and onto the bed as she seizes, flying back and hitting the wall with a thud—then dramatically backing up into the closet, closing both doors and exclaiming in the darkness BLŪ (CONT'D) I'm gonna die like this. OH NO. HE'S IN BROOKLYN?! RIGHT NOW?! SKRILLEX I'M IN BROOKLYN. RIGHT NOW. WHY WOULD HE BE IN BROOKLYN. I'M IN BROOKLYN. (heavy New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (even heavier New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (*hawks loogie, spits*) [very ugly cry] I was expecting to see some cheesy picture like I had just a couple years before—or however long it had been. So much time had passed and I had no doubt there was still more and that I wouldn't be seeing Sonny tonight, or even anytime soon—still, I was headed towards the rooftop to collect my stones, and though the tickets were sold out and there were said to be none at the door, I was headed for the train before I even knew why, or what was happening. Well, he's out of the basement. BITCH GET OUT THE ATTICK I'm in the closet now, I had a heart attack, I'm in a panic You need a manual? This is a stick shift This is some sick shit Click click, bitch I got witches in automatic Automatic It was 11:11 AM; I had never been to Manhattan so early before, at least not from Brooklyn; I knew my way to Equinox Sports club easily by now, without getting lost, or much hassle; it was an easy one hour train ride—and this morning, even easier; the writing came automatically, rather than forced, as it had been, and the ride went by almost too quickly, despite a full train and a flurry of emotions I worked heartfully to keep in check. ‘This changes nothing.' , I thought, more awestruck than anything and trying to convince myself nothing had changed, though something certainly had. Manhattan looked even better in the daylight—clear and sunny, and even a bit warm; babies in strollers and dogs on leashes and for a moment or two, I might have even forgotten I was homeless, dropping 2.5 Jimmy Fallons on a piping hot coffee at the shop I had always passed, but was never open. I would be at Sports Club until close, as I had planned to be all week but had always fallen short of, struck with jet lag and crippling depression at the same time—but today, and even if it was for the best that I couldn't seem to get exactly what I wanted, If even just out of sheer disbelief, I had at least been shaken out of my tomb, if only for a moment, and into work mode, still grieving the self I had lost in the collision of stardust and superstardom, fame, and misfortune—tears still on the brink of rolling down my cheek, and the cost of sicccess a grueling question burning somewhere between my still bleeding heart, and somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘Its like a fucked up cheaper by the dozen' And I still haven't frgotten about Dillon Francis, But Sonny seems to fuck me up a bit, —and then some It's just an addendum: I flipped the script and went dumb Here's my number, Christopher Columbus; And a bumper sticker Still a nigger Still a nothing trying to make it bigger Still a little off my rocker, Like I bought, at Cracker Barrel I'm still scared of marriage, Mind my manners, like Harriet Tubman Somebody's up to somethin' Better suck it up and get some crunches in Before I go to lunch And jump from too high up Or hang off of some bridge Just to get to the dimension Where it's Skrillex in the picture With Dillon standing next to him, And I'm just in the middle, Front and center With an Emmy Win An Oscar nomination, And a Tony, where my Grammy is: A curio cabinet I had custom fashioned for my bathroom; Next to the magazine rack, actually— Where I'm on every cover wearing fabrics I myself imagined, shining like a dragon eating laffy taffy; Fuck, I Suck at mathematics, —But I finally got my masters degree. Nice. Jeez, It would be tragic to have it all go up in ashes Lighting matches just to get the smell of gas to shatter— Or to dissipate, I estimate I'm 40 minutes late, But if I make it, I'll get naked on the plane, For heaven's sake. What the fuck is this. Some Sunnï Blū shit, I guess. “I guess.” I'm still mad at the world, I'm still mad at your girl, for being better than me So mad I could hurl, But I'm still fasting, actually; It's intermittent, In a minute, I might turn to Skrillex, Talk to Fred Again Then take some medicine And finally finish, like- “I did it” Oh look, it's Fred. Yep. Oh. Hi. It's Fred Again. That's me. Oh. Hey there. It's Fred..Again. Fucking a. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Alright, Jimmy—you sick sonofabitch. JIMMY FALLON —just kill me already. JIMMY THE MOBSTER WHERE IS IT. JIMMY FALLON Where is what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU KNOW WHAT. JIMMY FALLON I don't know what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —my medallion. JIMMY FALLON You were wearing a medallion? JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'M ALWAYS WEARING MY MEDALLION JIMMY FALLON How am I supposed to know that JIMMY THE MOBSTER there's only me and you here— JIMMY FALLON you know what they say—threes a crowd— JIMMY THE MOBSTER Listen, Jimmy Fallon, you illiterate motherfucker! JIMMY FALON I'm not illiterate; I'm very well read. JIMMY THE MOBSTER oh yeah! What was the last book you read? JIMMY FALLON … JIMMY THE MOBSTER …that's what I thought. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER grabs JIMMY FALLON by the shoulders abrasively JIMMY THE MOBSTER (CONT'D) WHERE'S MY MEDALLION, JIMMY!?! JIMMY FALLON I DON'T—KNOW! JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU DO KNOW! JIMMY FALLON NO, I DONT—you blindfolded and kidnapped me! JIMMY THE MOBSTER I kidnapped you?! C'mon' you're like 50- JIMMY FALLON I'm 42. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —I snatched you. “Snached” hm. I like that. MEANWHILE, in HOLLYWOOD This is a serious job… It's a job. A serious job. I'll take it. Wtf is this dude into. Whippets and women— Like every-other Hollywood nigga Stop using the n'word. It makes white people uncomfortable. Imagine what it's like being called the n word like it's your name. FLASHBACK BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA PRODUCER YOURE JUST A NIGGER SLAVE. (That actually happened.) Anyway. As you can see, or might have guessed, I'm desperate for attention, Sonny followed me to Brooklyn, But never even mentioned it: I should have figured he was listening, When I heard Renaissance, And lost the mixtape that I did That Skrillex took it off of Glad It didn't win the Grammy I'd be mad if it had. Cause I was on it! Not Exactly. Swear to God, I might have lost it, Heard applause and started walking Nodded off, And woke up in a coffin Coughs, What a photographer. DILLON FRANCIS has been buried alive, inside of a coffin. I love this scene. He really is a good actor. (In my mind.) Dude, you are creep level 1 Billion. Whatever, he followed me to Brooklyn. I am you. You know what, That is something I would do if I was stupid rich and… And what. I had fallen in love with Sonny Moore, not at first sight—but at first glance; it seemed he had been quite literally tossed into my broken and shattered world, and— What, I'm an animal! Did you fuck? Should I have? I would have. I know you would have. I'm not Annie; She is pretty, and fun; An addict, an alcoholic And formerly, my other half When I was one, But now I'm half of half of half And then some; I've been numb, I've never felt like this, Since I've been struck. I guess if I drink, I'll be a big drunk; And If I die before I ever wake I'll be in big luck Honestly, After Kayla Lauren, I didn't give a fuck Been thinking of jumping, Then something hit me like a big truck I love eating. There was some sort of event on the basketball court at Sports Club; I had been there already two entire hours, and spent most of it in the sauna, still followed by coughing people, I knew I still wasn't out or the heap of madness or broken from any spell or curse it might have been — and it wasn't fair, I wasn't fair skinned, and it didn't make a difference at all what had happened; I still wanted to end it. I'm losing my mind again Losing a light again Losing my light, But if I run to find it I just might I just might —I'll fly like a kite. He's trying to kill me. He's not doing a bad job. Don't know what i'm working towards; Don't know what i'm running for— Don't know about Sonny Moore (He's not for me;) Or so I thought before, therefore— I take metformin I'm still homeless, Searching for a metaphor, An aquafir, And somewhere to plug my phone in (Better than being ignored and drinking tap water, On the fourth floor) Housing is a human right I hate this place It's just not right I'm sick of fighting I'm not racist; Just not fucking white enough To run for red and right; I guess I'm blū then. I could be crying in the sauna. But I guess I'm writing you a message It's just a bullet in my head It's just another lesson It's just another test, at best It's just an algorithm; Go back to my nest And rest for just a minute This is season 6 of Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I gave my heart to Dillon Here's a tiny violin; It's getting violent since intermission Ultraviolet light, And impolite fixations, Revelations, Realizations, Revolutions, Reservations Let's set a date then— Is it fucking coughs, Or is it Satan? I hate this. You would want to jump in front of a train, too If for years. No matter what you did or where you went People came around you and just started coughing That's such an evil fucking thing to experience For someone who never wanted anything But to be loved But was always too fat Too black And just altogether too anything to ever experience love, joy, and happiness the way other people do And so, it must be hell Cause all I do is love, and love, and love And just get shit on And coughed at And called retarded And falling short of success I'm not heartless I just carry rocks around And get followed by coughing bodies My life fuckin sucks, man I just want to turn the simulation off, And on again I just want to take a long nap, And wake up in the arms of a man I just want a booking manager, And an orgasm. And a ham sandwhich, And my land back, And to be happy Or maybe like half a xanex Wanna throw myself down on the train tracks I want a can of spam and pancakes Like breakfast made by my dad I want to hold hands, And a whole home, with a landing pad Or maybe just an address, and a gas lamp Or a campfire Timestamp that. This is the third and final act. I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. “Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to brooklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet? Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. V.O. Things I know about myself… I have a dominant personality, but am sexually submissive— I am monogamous. I know what I like — *Drill beat* Die in your sleep (Hope you die in your sleep) Die in your sleep (Betta die in your sleep) I look like a vacation. But k'm still on the clock (psyche) Countin my rocks And holdin my (unh) crotch You better watch your back —hold on your coughs Don't run in no crocs! (No!) I'm offset Now I'm upset l —I love you. Shut up, foo— I don't even love myself. …you told her?! I—yeah… What did she say?! She said “shut up, fool Been. Long time since I missed my exit HEY! [looks over slowly] I LIKE YOUR BALLS. [beat] [thumbs up] How do I not have “throwing elbows?!” BECAUSE YOURE NOT DOING YOUR JOB! Shut up, Jeff COME TO THE DARK SIDE WE HAVE COOKIES Half of Hollywood shows up at Joel's super nerdy Star Wars party The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy Sunni BLU Tweety bird Mickey Mouse Betty boop I woke up like this But a little different I woke up a star Then became a planet I'm a hummingbird, but I don't like flying I might look alright, But I feel like dying I hate waking up at 5 am Just to be the first one at the gym I don't wanna do that shit again— Well, I might as well just stay up! I hate waking up at 5 am Just to take my goddamn medicine, but If I don't I'll feel like shit— Well, I might as well just stay up! I might as well just stay up! This is a recipe for disaster. No, this is a recipe for Skrillex. Oh. This is the recipe for disaster. Thanks, Dillon Francis. FOR WHAT? I remember the moment I became partially deaf. Or at least, in the synesthetic sense. Dillon Francis is delicious Come on let me lick it on a stick Give it to me like a big Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Sample: Willy winks* ITS WILLY WONKA Lol are we still doing the bit where the misspellings are like a, another entirely different dimension? Yeah. Haha. Yeah. —and the chocolate factory