POPULARITY
4 episodes with night guy
2 episodes with night guy
2 episodes with night guy
2 episodes with night guy
2 episodes with night guy
2 episodes with night guy
2 episodes with night guy
03. s w e a t. Just pretend It's imminent; My relapse, As a drug I take it in in increments Collapse; My photographic image memory Serves me perfectly A classical caricature And still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt (Still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt) I'm here in present tense An artifact and image Inside all the builds and relics Mr. Tim is here When Mr, Night Guy gets too perfect Ties it on a bit for treasure chests And pleasure's never where the head will reac, dear Here hearts Silk eyes Don't trust Tame scarves Legwarmers Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Wedding bells And autocrats Grandfather clock and pendulum And scarcities and garish art, And murderers upon the dusk The carriage sure to'ave spoken Crypt sinking, There faultlines, now quaking My hind legs are to shore And still my forelegs tip. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events.
s u c k e r p u n c h. The kid will never go to sleep, You know The boy will never rest He'll never do his best, you know He'll never do his best She'll never be the best you know She's never out of bed She'll never see the sun you know ‘It's only in your head' The boy will never drown, you know You know the boy's so cold You might go out for now, you know But you'll go home alone He'll never hit the ground, you know The boy will never rest The boy will just go down, You know As history at best (The girl is staring out the window as the frost comes out their mouths) Fresh from the land of a thousand suns And I still don't know which stone to land on No random environment; I underwent the whole attorney And still met with resistance I just asked for an amphetamine as if it was A supplement to my existence In fact, it is, An edifice or addition to my nutrition deficit And I says, For whatever's lost but goes on, Fight for rich or poorer – while the poorer suffer longer. No longer argue my agreements, Distance to whatever's after There I rest upon the sober throne, And throwing watermelon seeds into the ground as stones, For may as well without the water And also sure to rot, Or waste as rats, Computer paper, There again Recycling bins of compost Just for show, but not for shredded wager No, no longer or wonder my nonsense, In fact, I, raging there had kept no more a suffer than a secret to be sure of here— And sure of her I was and sheer and gathered Torment your emotions, Also just to want but not to have As those that matter. So I've called in all the white clothes Now we represent with denim. And I'm stuck inside your television Stuck inside your television Don't you know you've shown you're weakness in the purest of hatred, Separating yourselfs as the basis for this Depreciation? Wonder, again I wonder And still no sad trombones, Only stories, and somber surfers And solemn whores and silent wars with words And sundries From the land of one thousand suns And a thousand sons you've lost A thousand wars, A thousand girls who want you Gathered over rails and velvet theatre ropes for it Rare. But slightly often scored, Parched, And barely long forgotten, Tipping, And waiting only This bitch comes on the train and smells like soup. Don't look at me as if I'm the one to have done something, I've no cardboard box but rather lift my chin at Whole Foods market over bags or water. You know it? I also do that for the dozen, No trend follows, or feathered gathered, Hollow winds and tunnels Tunnels sent and shadows I hadn't been pin pricked I never been picked out Blow the candles for which wish? I've been ever been bound to love Or celebrated by another besides my mother But here's some sensory deprivation, Overstimulation lol I love getting on the train and just happening to see a dude who is not listening to his dumb fucking girlfriend But she won't shut the fuck up He's just standing there like “Clearly I'm getting sex out of this” And she won't stop talking. I love that. I'm like “bitch, shut up.” He's like, “Help me.” I'm like, Not my problem, broskies, You better look interested instead of over here. Anyway, another year's gone by and no one's here for me. Anyway, another son was born without my honor. Anyway, I want to lap it up like all the water on the floor Before I realized it was gold, And I was slaughtered No use crying over spilled galaxies, Still you're trapped in I, And I'm found to want more than I decided If I'm divided and clustered up And yet I'm divine then, I should gather all I've had Combine it into one —and yet Another columbine has come As if they're all occurrences, Just set to Apple Watches And broadcast t'all the provinces. In a cinch I've just realized I've the trench coat to match your jacket But no longer the converse all stars And you've seen to washed yours off from my angle Simple single triangle and spheres for fears of masturbating, Crash the grate at all the hours, Never really gravitating for anything important, Only alt-right Can't afford that All your penlaltied for real to mean political rallies or ambitions act as barriers to those that actually ally. Who am I? That's right? I can't belay in body! Oh, I can't to grip the shadows Boxing with the cat for your night V.O We were friends with the humans— Most of our job is finding out what happened with them. Future people Vintage potluck All out time And all our hard work All our bad luck All our warns Fell on her shores as lodes for her Oh, How his legs fall so calmly one over the other Or, How his songs flow not as words, but heart strings Our melodies will walk in chords for all time For now if ta zzz A as te r What a brilliant blue, Yea, in fact, its cerulean Yes, in fact, if you can Facts to rule them all, so If you fax, try to call, here goes all your worry Here's your love; None For the facts you were sure to walk about, now you're our, gone From the top Don't ever forget you're on watch I've got a whole heart full of freedom Just don't look up from your phone e They brought you up now pull you down a bit You're a clown, it seems But no activists They heil Hitler in central Bedford No articles of new clothing l, huh? They love to watch all your digging They call it hyper vigilance m because the whites in New York can be so violently racist m Their strength lies not only in money and power but nearly balanced numbers Which justifies their hurtful and aggressive actions as adaptations to the changing world They see themselves as the controllers Still slave master but in such a context That they mask the hatred that lies under the surface as social issues of another kind Why existing in white neighborhoods in less than perfect black skin seems to hurt in another way you can't always tell the doctor What if covert racism doesn't hurt as much– (or never, ever-after) Mister Jimmy you're out of touch. Mr. Chaos you're out of God. Ms. Divine, you're not enough Ms. Monroe, you're out of love A dozen is a dozen Hallmark roses I still love my ‘ol Miss Molly I still love my golden trophy Mr. Trump, You're out of touch Mr. Moore, You're out of line Ms. Monroe, you're not enough Mr. God, you're out of love But I still love my ol' Miss Molly I still love my golden trophy I still love my Hollywood, Golden boys I still love my silver screen And golden eras, I still love my world before love I still like my alma mater But i'll never ever love her I put out for dear Miss Molly I get up for four-door wallets I belong to none or nothing I should die, I don't belong here I still call her over after Don't belong here under, over I still love my golden boys though I still love my golden trophy Mister Jimmy, you're out of touch. F I can very much count you out; E I can very much drift away G I can very well close my eyes. Am What do you want me to say? You want the whole thing? Well what a fun night. It was a hard roll; it was a good time It was a hard come down, though A hard fuck It was a hard laugh; I wrote a good book We took a long ride; Then smoked a long blunt Woah Hush now, good fan Come and take a hard roll A long stroll a hot dance I want to take a half more The comedown was hard, But i just got the honor roll Come down, good fan I want to hold your hand now I want to take a good pause I want to have a hard roll Calm down, good fan I'm headed for your heart now (i want to take a hard fall, I want to take a hard roll) Come on, good man I wanna get a hard on I wanna take a hard fan I want to have a hard fuck I'm going for your heart now I want to have a long roll I'm going for your heart now I want to take a good smoke Yeah, and it's something like that And i look both ways before I cross the Cut the road Yeah, i hate myself as well But i know you don' But you know, we're all getting older It just goes more post mortem To hold secrets inside Pass over regrets and don't touch em Like you don't want em But you don't want No one else And you don't wanna run So you either say hello to the dog Or bark, And then jump back I have you on speed dial But I misfire T total recall I don't call blocked numbers but still number one d-d-don't be a retard, Work harder Learn more than your other parts To control them supermanteras Entourage Tata- Ratata Don't be retarded Rat poison for supper Rat poison for supper And politics for something sweet afterward You heard of the knowledge? You heard of the good book Good one, Doctor I'll run harder next workhour Cause we're all undercooked And we're all overdone on the outside still half frozen in the gut though, You know You know? Enjoy your holiday supper Enjoy your apartment Enjoy your destruction I'm just getting started corrupting your disk drive Full system failure! Fill system failure! Full Jimmy Fallon! I mean– Redact that. Don't be retarded. Run out of water! We're all out of order! I might as well pull the plug Or just more fires. I got hard times under And hard times covered No hard times coming cause Look, I got smarter (don't be retarded) I got semi sweet chocolate And lessons And lovers And neighbors And demons and evil around I So who could have thought That the work of God was just [us, at it] At first, i thought nothing, and then all at once, All it was, as is. While I hope that one day for me, there's a me And a man in a meadow No time to decide however, how long I can act as irreverent, The single disciple, the limitless modem,, the signal to imminent the I took a misstep, I went the wrong way I thought I was done, but I should be on stage Just pretend It's imminent; My relapse, As a drug I take it in in increments Collapse; My photographic image memory Serves me perfectly A classical caricature And still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt (Still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt) I'm here in present tense An artifact and image Inside all the builds and relics Mr. Tim is here When Mr, Night Guy gets too perfect Ties it on a bit for treasure chests And pleasure's never where the head will reac, dear Here hearts Silk eyes Don't trust Tame scarves Legwaemwss Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Wedding bells And autocrats Grandfather clock and pendulum And scarities and garish art, And murderers upon the dusk The carriage sure to'ave spoken Crypt sinking, There faultlines, now quaking My hind legs are to shore And still my forelegs tip So why am I envious? It isn't athletics, I promise Its pages and pages Poems and proses Keep it together karassndra Why are you out all alone in a war zone without a gun? Why are you out with the bomb squad in a rainstorm Why are you known amongst all the lands? You won by a landslide but by a show of hands And a slight side of hands And a show to the world that you own what you're on, Let them come hold enough to hold you down with the motorcycles. No country for old nothing When the highlight of your whole life Is the subdural hematoma growing to the surface. And you were sure before you'd never have that part of your symmetry in tact again See how the devil surrounds us when we interact with God and pure genius Human will always kill God; He doesn't understand it The attacks and the tactical wall for sure come to a close; The whole empire is falling And Heaven is calling us home; This has been just a warning I'm still hiding j. The closet; I'm sure to fly your hawk back, homing, Nothing like a good pigeon, depending on the moment And deepening hour disinterest in anything? See how evil walks amongst us When you haven't come upon it in a moment Or have all your other targets lined up— Do remember dear ther it all comes back to haunt them When they're all younger And haven't been tortured yet The fun part first and the war part after; Sure to suffer if you're sure to hurt her Sure to muder for a quarter or a tucked shirt Sure to give a shit if just my mister in a basket Do you understand that? I won't Good good Goddamn I might have a heart attack I might have to kill myself I hate this place I'm tired now I dropped my hat . I'm an individual Stuck in a simulated and subject collective consciousness I'll tel you where the problem is I promise this It seemed more like a tactical marketing strategy than an actual accident, knowing the type of superstar Sonny had become. Yet, I couldn't help but give it a second thought, almost admiring it—whatever it was—as there is no such thing as bad press. As it all played out over social media—which I obstinately rejected, but however so embraced by those in what one used to call "the arts"—it felt undone; It was now strictly business within those very same markets. Here was this, an apparent plagiarism based on ‘outsourcing' a simple photo for a follow-up single to an album I knew I could not be moved to listen to, even after months. I had spent my own time, in a torturous chaos sense, researching these sorts of psychological tactics and strategies of such conglomerates. It seemed almost as if the negative and seemingly coincidental exposure was in congruency with the so very Skrillexian need to stay relevant to the newer age in changing times. He seemed to embrace some sort of artistic evolution, at least from what I could sense at a long and strong distance. However, my ability to understand the article I'd very much by accident stumbled upon—while overlooking my own dilapidated ticket stubs on Resident Advisor—cautioned at the kind of humbled and grown logic that had become what was left of my womanhood. I had in so many ways made a fool of myself, an embarrassment for what I thought of at the time in the name of love. Still, in all this time, I was so desolated and alone that it had become such an apparent and distraught sense of waking up to what formerly was. With this, I thought one of two things. I knew this Sonny, like most men of prestige, power, and great wealth, had devised his team of sharp-witted, intelligent, beautiful women. This apparent slip-up over the artwork for his latest endeavor—which I had, for every reason, protested in defense of my own dignity—was perhaps the result of a beautiful woman without creative ingenuity stealing the artwork in bad taste, as evidenced. Or—even more cunning—this was the wit of a trained and marginalized soldier in the art of programming. The apparent plagiarism was, in fact, another brutal and hollow Skrillefied market for attention. Over the last decade, he had no shortage of the ability to create and draw eyes to whatever art or concept was forced out of the mechanized monster. Still, there was a sharp growl. I knew I was meant to find this as a reminder of what I'd find if I looked any further or listened to his music anymore: a rise in sharp numbers, mass appeal tactics, and this-or-that shallow hogwash of distinctly skeletal bodies and avant-garde aesthetics. It pointed at the unachievable from my eyes and standpoint. It was the rockstar air and attire of everything I wasn't: strictly thin Hollywood or other ideals to which the construct was entitled, but I wasn't. I had to set out on my own way because what I had intended with music was jumbled into appearances, pornographic sexualities, and masculine dominance. It meant I had aged out of the desirability and affect these very same masses were being marketed from. Sure, I understood that the Skrillex project had established a sort of order for what the electronic festival industry wanted. But I also wanted something else accomplished in my time that wasn't just being some shallow, hot-girl, obscure go-after. The entire time, I had been under the impression of a duality of magnetism I often still had difficulty loosening myself from—that this illusion of an emotional tie or loveness, outside of what was a physical or illustrious concept, had no substance within the business at its core. It was, to say the least, a heartless world and a heartless business. Now that my own music was without purpose, I could forever distance myself from the other masses—the consumer-prosumer-commercialized "artists" that had sprung up out of access to the direct-to-streaming music market via technology and disposable funding. I had no way of embodying my mind to do away with the parts of me that needed to change to become one of them—in the sense that if my music looked and sounded alike, I would be embraced. But I was far from being the type of consciousness that had formed seemingly with the twist of a knob or an Ableton shortcut by one of electronic's founding fathers. In an unfortunate way, I had finally realized he was just that. — Death of A Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
![[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]](https://ivyfm.s3.amazonaws.com/i320/1184481.jpg)
s u c k e r p u n c h. The kid will never go to sleep, You know The boy will never rest He'll never do his best, you know He'll never do his best She'll never be the best you know She's never out of bed She'll never see the sun you know ‘It's only in your head' The boy will never drown, you know You know the boy's so cold You might go out for now, you know But you'll go home alone He'll never hit the ground, you know The boy will never rest The boy will just go down, You know As history at best (The girl is staring out the window as the frost comes out their mouths) Fresh from the land of a thousand suns And I still don't know which stone to land on No random environment; I underwent the whole attorney And still met with resistance I just asked for an amphetamine as if it was A supplement to my existence In fact, it is, An edifice or addition to my nutrition deficit And I says, For whatever's lost but goes on, Fight for rich or poorer – while the poorer suffer longer. No longer argue my agreements, Distance to whatever's after There I rest upon the sober throne, And throwing watermelon seeds into the ground as stones, For may as well without the water And also sure to rot, Or waste as rats, Computer paper, There again Recycling bins of compost Just for show, but not for shredded wager No, no longer or wonder my nonsense, In fact, I, raging there had kept no more a suffer than a secret to be sure of here— And sure of her I was and sheer and gathered Torment your emotions, Also just to want but not to have As those that matter. So I've called in all the white clothes Now we represent with denim. And I'm stuck inside your television Stuck inside your television Don't you know you've shown you're weakness in the purest of hatred, Separating yourselfs as the basis for this Depreciation? Wonder, again I wonder And still no sad trombones, Only stories, and somber surfers And solemn whores and silent wars with words And sundries From the land of one thousand suns And a thousand sons you've lost A thousand wars, A thousand girls who want you Gathered over rails and velvet theatre ropes for it Rare. But slightly often scored, Parched, And barely long forgotten, Tipping, And waiting only This bitch comes on the train and smells like soup. Don't look at me as if I'm the one to have done something, I've no cardboard box but rather lift my chin at Whole Foods market over bags or water. You know it? I also do that for the dozen, No trend follows, or feathered gathered, Hollow winds and tunnels Tunnels sent and shadows I hadn't been pin pricked I never been picked out Blow the candles for which wish? I've been ever been bound to love Or celebrated by another besides my mother But here's some sensory deprivation, Overstimulation lol I love getting on the train and just happening to see a dude who is not listening to his dumb fucking girlfriend But she won't shut the fuck up He's just standing there like “Clearly I'm getting sex out of this” And she won't stop talking. I love that. I'm like “bitch, shut up.” He's like, “Help me.” I'm like, Not my problem, broskies, You better look interested instead of over here. Anyway, another year's gone by and no one's here for me. Anyway, another son was born without my honor. Anyway, I want to lap it up like all the water on the floor Before I realized it was gold, And I was slaughtered No use crying over spilled galaxies, Still you're trapped in I, And I'm found to want more than I decided If I'm divided and clustered up And yet I'm divine then, I should gather all I've had Combine it into one —and yet Another columbine has come As if they're all occurrences, Just set to Apple Watches And broadcast t'all the provinces. In a cinch I've just realized I've the trench coat to match your jacket But no longer the converse all stars And you've seen to washed yours off from my angle Simple single triangle and spheres for fears of masturbating, Crash the grate at all the hours, Never really gravitating for anything important, Only alt-right Can't afford that All your penlaltied for real to mean political rallies or ambitions act as barriers to those that actually ally. Who am I? That's right? I can't belay in body! Oh, I can't to grip the shadows Boxing with the cat for your night V.O We were friends with the humans— Most of our job is finding out what happened with them. Future people Vintage potluck All out time And all our hard work All our bad luck All our warns Fell on her shores as lodes for her Oh, How his legs fall so calmly one over the other Or, How his songs flow not as words, but heart strings Our melodies will walk in chords for all time For now if ta zzz A as te r What a brilliant blue, Yea, in fact, its cerulean Yes, in fact, if you can Facts to rule them all, so If you fax, try to call, here goes all your worry Here's your love; None For the facts you were sure to walk about, now you're our, gone From the top Don't ever forget you're on watch I've got a whole heart full of freedom Just don't look up from your phone e They brought you up now pull you down a bit You're a clown, it seems But no activists They heil Hitler in central Bedford No articles of new clothing l, huh? They love to watch all your digging They call it hyper vigilance m because the whites in New York can be so violently racist m Their strength lies not only in money and power but nearly balanced numbers Which justifies their hurtful and aggressive actions as adaptations to the changing world They see themselves as the controllers Still slave master but in such a context That they mask the hatred that lies under the surface as social issues of another kind Why existing in white neighborhoods in less than perfect black skin seems to hurt in another way you can't always tell the doctor What if covert racism doesn't hurt as much– (or never, ever-after) Mister Jimmy you're out of touch. Mr. Chaos you're out of God. Ms. Divine, you're not enough Ms. Monroe, you're out of love A dozen is a dozen Hallmark roses I still love my ‘ol Miss Molly I still love my golden trophy Mr. Trump, You're out of touch Mr. Moore, You're out of line Ms. Monroe, you're not enough Mr. God, you're out of love But I still love my ol' Miss Molly I still love my golden trophy I still love my Hollywood, Golden boys I still love my silver screen And golden eras, I still love my world before love I still like my alma mater But i'll never ever love her I put out for dear Miss Molly I get up for four-door wallets I belong to none or nothing I should die, I don't belong here I still call her over after Don't belong here under, over I still love my golden boys though I still love my golden trophy Mister Jimmy, you're out of touch. F I can very much count you out; E I can very much drift away G I can very well close my eyes. Am What do you want me to say? You want the whole thing? Well what a fun night. It was a hard roll; it was a good time It was a hard come down, though A hard fuck It was a hard laugh; I wrote a good book We took a long ride; Then smoked a long blunt Woah Hush now, good fan Come and take a hard roll A long stroll a hot dance I want to take a half more The comedown was hard, But i just got the honor roll Come down, good fan I want to hold your hand now I want to take a good pause I want to have a hard roll Calm down, good fan I'm headed for your heart now (i want to take a hard fall, I want to take a hard roll) Come on, good man I wanna get a hard on I wanna take a hard fan I want to have a hard fuck I'm going for your heart now I want to have a long roll I'm going for your heart now I want to take a good smoke Yeah, and it's something like that And i look both ways before I cross the Cut the road Yeah, i hate myself as well But i know you don' But you know, we're all getting older It just goes more post mortem To hold secrets inside Pass over regrets and don't touch em Like you don't want em But you don't want No one else And you don't wanna run So you either say hello to the dog Or bark, And then jump back I have you on speed dial But I misfire T total recall I don't call blocked numbers but still number one d-d-don't be a retard, Work harder Learn more than your other parts To control them supermanteras Entourage Tata- Ratata Don't be retarded Rat poison for supper Rat poison for supper And politics for something sweet afterward You heard of the knowledge? You heard of the good book Good one, Doctor I'll run harder next workhour Cause we're all undercooked And we're all overdone on the outside still half frozen in the gut though, You know You know? Enjoy your holiday supper Enjoy your apartment Enjoy your destruction I'm just getting started corrupting your disk drive Full system failure! Fill system failure! Full Jimmy Fallon! I mean– Redact that. Don't be retarded. Run out of water! We're all out of order! I might as well pull the plug Or just more fires. I got hard times under And hard times covered No hard times coming cause Look, I got smarter (don't be retarded) I got semi sweet chocolate And lessons And lovers And neighbors And demons and evil around I So who could have thought That the work of God was just [us, at it] At first, i thought nothing, and then all at once, All it was, as is. While I hope that one day for me, there's a me And a man in a meadow No time to decide however, how long I can act as irreverent, The single disciple, the limitless modem,, the signal to imminent the I took a misstep, I went the wrong way I thought I was done, but I should be on stage Just pretend It's imminent; My relapse, As a drug I take it in in increments Collapse; My photographic image memory Serves me perfectly A classical caricature And still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt (Still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt) I'm here in present tense An artifact and image Inside all the builds and relics Mr. Tim is here When Mr, Night Guy gets too perfect Ties it on a bit for treasure chests And pleasure's never where the head will reac, dear Here hearts Silk eyes Don't trust Tame scarves Legwaemwss Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Wedding bells And autocrats Grandfather clock and pendulum And scarities and garish art, And murderers upon the dusk The carriage sure to'ave spoken Crypt sinking, There faultlines, now quaking My hind legs are to shore And still my forelegs tip So why am I envious? It isn't athletics, I promise Its pages and pages Poems and proses Keep it together karassndra Why are you out all alone in a war zone without a gun? Why are you out with the bomb squad in a rainstorm Why are you known amongst all the lands? You won by a landslide but by a show of hands And a slight side of hands And a show to the world that you own what you're on, Let them come hold enough to hold you down with the motorcycles. No country for old nothing When the highlight of your whole life Is the subdural hematoma growing to the surface. And you were sure before you'd never have that part of your symmetry in tact again See how the devil surrounds us when we interact with God and pure genius Human will always kill God; He doesn't understand it The attacks and the tactical wall for sure come to a close; The whole empire is falling And Heaven is calling us home; This has been just a warning I'm still hiding j. The closet; I'm sure to fly your hawk back, homing, Nothing like a good pigeon, depending on the moment And deepening hour disinterest in anything? See how evil walks amongst us When you haven't come upon it in a moment Or have all your other targets lined up— Do remember dear ther it all comes back to haunt them When they're all younger And haven't been tortured yet The fun part first and the war part after; Sure to suffer if you're sure to hurt her Sure to muder for a quarter or a tucked shirt Sure to give a shit if just my mister in a basket Do you understand that? I won't Good good Goddamn I might have a heart attack I might have to kill myself I hate this place I'm tired now I dropped my hat . I'm an individual Stuck in a simulated and subject collective consciousness I'll tel you where the problem is I promise this It seemed more like a tactical marketing strategy than an actual accident, knowing the type of superstar Sonny had become. Yet, I couldn't help but give it a second thought, almost admiring it—whatever it was—as there is no such thing as bad press. As it all played out over social media—which I obstinately rejected, but however so embraced by those in what one used to call "the arts"—it felt undone; It was now strictly business within those very same markets. Here was this, an apparent plagiarism based on ‘outsourcing' a simple photo for a follow-up single to an album I knew I could not be moved to listen to, even after months. I had spent my own time, in a torturous chaos sense, researching these sorts of psychological tactics and strategies of such conglomerates. It seemed almost as if the negative and seemingly coincidental exposure was in congruency with the so very Skrillexian need to stay relevant to the newer age in changing times. He seemed to embrace some sort of artistic evolution, at least from what I could sense at a long and strong distance. However, my ability to understand the article I'd very much by accident stumbled upon—while overlooking my own dilapidated ticket stubs on Resident Advisor—cautioned at the kind of humbled and grown logic that had become what was left of my womanhood. I had in so many ways made a fool of myself, an embarrassment for what I thought of at the time in the name of love. Still, in all this time, I was so desolated and alone that it had become such an apparent and distraught sense of waking up to what formerly was. With this, I thought one of two things. I knew this Sonny, like most men of prestige, power, and great wealth, had devised his team of sharp-witted, intelligent, beautiful women. This apparent slip-up over the artwork for his latest endeavor—which I had, for every reason, protested in defense of my own dignity—was perhaps the result of a beautiful woman without creative ingenuity stealing the artwork in bad taste, as evidenced. Or—even more cunning—this was the wit of a trained and marginalized soldier in the art of programming. The apparent plagiarism was, in fact, another brutal and hollow Skrillefied market for attention. Over the last decade, he had no shortage of the ability to create and draw eyes to whatever art or concept was forced out of the mechanized monster. Still, there was a sharp growl. I knew I was meant to find this as a reminder of what I'd find if I looked any further or listened to his music anymore: a rise in sharp numbers, mass appeal tactics, and this-or-that shallow hogwash of distinctly skeletal bodies and avant-garde aesthetics. It pointed at the unachievable from my eyes and standpoint. It was the rockstar air and attire of everything I wasn't: strictly thin Hollywood or other ideals to which the construct was entitled, but I wasn't. I had to set out on my own way because what I had intended with music was jumbled into appearances, pornographic sexualities, and masculine dominance. It meant I had aged out of the desirability and affect these very same masses were being marketed from. Sure, I understood that the Skrillex project had established a sort of order for what the electronic festival industry wanted. But I also wanted something else accomplished in my time that wasn't just being some shallow, hot-girl, obscure go-after. The entire time, I had been under the impression of a duality of magnetism I often still had difficulty loosening myself from—that this illusion of an emotional tie or loveness, outside of what was a physical or illustrious concept, had no substance within the business at its core. It was, to say the least, a heartless world and a heartless business. Now that my own music was without purpose, I could forever distance myself from the other masses—the consumer-prosumer-commercialized "artists" that had sprung up out of access to the direct-to-streaming music market via technology and disposable funding. I had no way of embodying my mind to do away with the parts of me that needed to change to become one of them—in the sense that if my music looked and sounded alike, I would be embraced. But I was far from being the type of consciousness that had formed seemingly with the twist of a knob or an Ableton shortcut by one of electronic's founding fathers. In an unfortunate way, I had finally realized he was just that. — Death of A Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
03. s w e a t. Just pretend It's imminent; My relapse, As a drug I take it in in increments Collapse; My photographic image memory Serves me perfectly A classical caricature And still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt (Still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt) I'm here in present tense An artifact and image Inside all the builds and relics Mr. Tim is here When Mr, Night Guy gets too perfect Ties it on a bit for treasure chests And pleasure's never where the head will reac, dear Here hearts Silk eyes Don't trust Tame scarves Legwarmers Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Wedding bells And autocrats Grandfather clock and pendulum And scarcities and garish art, And murderers upon the dusk The carriage sure to'ave spoken Crypt sinking, There faultlines, now quaking My hind legs are to shore And still my forelegs tip. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events.
s u c k e r p u n c h. The kid will never go to sleep, You know The boy will never rest He'll never do his best, you know He'll never do his best She'll never be the best you know She's never out of bed She'll never see the sun you know ‘It's only in your head' The boy will never drown, you know You know the boy's so cold You might go out for now, you know But you'll go home alone He'll never hit the ground, you know The boy will never rest The boy will just go down, You know As history at best (The girl is staring out the window as the frost comes out their mouths) Fresh from the land of a thousand suns And I still don't know which stone to land on No random environment; I underwent the whole attorney And still met with resistance I just asked for an amphetamine as if it was A supplement to my existence In fact, it is, An edifice or addition to my nutrition deficit And I says, For whatever's lost but goes on, Fight for rich or poorer – while the poorer suffer longer. No longer argue my agreements, Distance to whatever's after There I rest upon the sober throne, And throwing watermelon seeds into the ground as stones, For may as well without the water And also sure to rot, Or waste as rats, Computer paper, There again Recycling bins of compost Just for show, but not for shredded wager No, no longer or wonder my nonsense, In fact, I, raging there had kept no more a suffer than a secret to be sure of here— And sure of her I was and sheer and gathered Torment your emotions, Also just to want but not to have As those that matter. So I've called in all the white clothes Now we represent with denim. And I'm stuck inside your television Stuck inside your television Don't you know you've shown you're weakness in the purest of hatred, Separating yourselfs as the basis for this Depreciation? Wonder, again I wonder And still no sad trombones, Only stories, and somber surfers And solemn whores and silent wars with words And sundries From the land of one thousand suns And a thousand sons you've lost A thousand wars, A thousand girls who want you Gathered over rails and velvet theatre ropes for it Rare. But slightly often scored, Parched, And barely long forgotten, Tipping, And waiting only This bitch comes on the train and smells like soup. Don't look at me as if I'm the one to have done something, I've no cardboard box but rather lift my chin at Whole Foods market over bags or water. You know it? I also do that for the dozen, No trend follows, or feathered gathered, Hollow winds and tunnels Tunnels sent and shadows I hadn't been pin pricked I never been picked out Blow the candles for which wish? I've been ever been bound to love Or celebrated by another besides my mother But here's some sensory deprivation, Overstimulation lol I love getting on the train and just happening to see a dude who is not listening to his dumb fucking girlfriend But she won't shut the fuck up He's just standing there like “Clearly I'm getting sex out of this” And she won't stop talking. I love that. I'm like “bitch, shut up.” He's like, “Help me.” I'm like, Not my problem, broskies, You better look interested instead of over here. Anyway, another year's gone by and no one's here for me. Anyway, another son was born without my honor. Anyway, I want to lap it up like all the water on the floor Before I realized it was gold, And I was slaughtered No use crying over spilled galaxies, Still you're trapped in I, And I'm found to want more than I decided If I'm divided and clustered up And yet I'm divine then, I should gather all I've had Combine it into one —and yet Another columbine has come As if they're all occurrences, Just set to Apple Watches And broadcast t'all the provinces. In a cinch I've just realized I've the trench coat to match your jacket But no longer the converse all stars And you've seen to washed yours off from my angle Simple single triangle and spheres for fears of masturbating, Crash the grate at all the hours, Never really gravitating for anything important, Only alt-right Can't afford that All your penlaltied for real to mean political rallies or ambitions act as barriers to those that actually ally. Who am I? That's right? I can't belay in body! Oh, I can't to grip the shadows Boxing with the cat for your night V.O We were friends with the humans— Most of our job is finding out what happened with them. Future people Vintage potluck All out time And all our hard work All our bad luck All our warns Fell on her shores as lodes for her Oh, How his legs fall so calmly one over the other Or, How his songs flow not as words, but heart strings Our melodies will walk in chords for all time For now if ta zzz A as te r What a brilliant blue, Yea, in fact, its cerulean Yes, in fact, if you can Facts to rule them all, so If you fax, try to call, here goes all your worry Here's your love; None For the facts you were sure to walk about, now you're our, gone From the top Don't ever forget you're on watch I've got a whole heart full of freedom Just don't look up from your phone e They brought you up now pull you down a bit You're a clown, it seems But no activists They heil Hitler in central Bedford No articles of new clothing l, huh? They love to watch all your digging They call it hyper vigilance m because the whites in New York can be so violently racist m Their strength lies not only in money and power but nearly balanced numbers Which justifies their hurtful and aggressive actions as adaptations to the changing world They see themselves as the controllers Still slave master but in such a context That they mask the hatred that lies under the surface as social issues of another kind Why existing in white neighborhoods in less than perfect black skin seems to hurt in another way you can't always tell the doctor What if covert racism doesn't hurt as much– (or never, ever-after) Mister Jimmy you're out of touch. Mr. Chaos you're out of God. Ms. Divine, you're not enough Ms. Monroe, you're out of love A dozen is a dozen Hallmark roses I still love my ‘ol Miss Molly I still love my golden trophy Mr. Trump, You're out of touch Mr. Moore, You're out of line Ms. Monroe, you're not enough Mr. God, you're out of love But I still love my ol' Miss Molly I still love my golden trophy I still love my Hollywood, Golden boys I still love my silver screen And golden eras, I still love my world before love I still like my alma mater But i'll never ever love her I put out for dear Miss Molly I get up for four-door wallets I belong to none or nothing I should die, I don't belong here I still call her over after Don't belong here under, over I still love my golden boys though I still love my golden trophy Mister Jimmy, you're out of touch. F I can very much count you out; E I can very much drift away G I can very well close my eyes. Am What do you want me to say? You want the whole thing? Well what a fun night. It was a hard roll; it was a good time It was a hard come down, though A hard fuck It was a hard laugh; I wrote a good book We took a long ride; Then smoked a long blunt Woah Hush now, good fan Come and take a hard roll A long stroll a hot dance I want to take a half more The comedown was hard, But i just got the honor roll Come down, good fan I want to hold your hand now I want to take a good pause I want to have a hard roll Calm down, good fan I'm headed for your heart now (i want to take a hard fall, I want to take a hard roll) Come on, good man I wanna get a hard on I wanna take a hard fan I want to have a hard fuck I'm going for your heart now I want to have a long roll I'm going for your heart now I want to take a good smoke Yeah, and it's something like that And i look both ways before I cross the Cut the road Yeah, i hate myself as well But i know you don' But you know, we're all getting older It just goes more post mortem To hold secrets inside Pass over regrets and don't touch em Like you don't want em But you don't want No one else And you don't wanna run So you either say hello to the dog Or bark, And then jump back I have you on speed dial But I misfire T total recall I don't call blocked numbers but still number one d-d-don't be a retard, Work harder Learn more than your other parts To control them supermanteras Entourage Tata- Ratata Don't be retarded Rat poison for supper Rat poison for supper And politics for something sweet afterward You heard of the knowledge? You heard of the good book Good one, Doctor I'll run harder next workhour Cause we're all undercooked And we're all overdone on the outside still half frozen in the gut though, You know You know? Enjoy your holiday supper Enjoy your apartment Enjoy your destruction I'm just getting started corrupting your disk drive Full system failure! Fill system failure! Full Jimmy Fallon! I mean– Redact that. Don't be retarded. Run out of water! We're all out of order! I might as well pull the plug Or just more fires. I got hard times under And hard times covered No hard times coming cause Look, I got smarter (don't be retarded) I got semi sweet chocolate And lessons And lovers And neighbors And demons and evil around I So who could have thought That the work of God was just [us, at it] At first, i thought nothing, and then all at once, All it was, as is. While I hope that one day for me, there's a me And a man in a meadow No time to decide however, how long I can act as irreverent, The single disciple, the limitless modem,, the signal to imminent the I took a misstep, I went the wrong way I thought I was done, but I should be on stage Just pretend It's imminent; My relapse, As a drug I take it in in increments Collapse; My photographic image memory Serves me perfectly A classical caricature And still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt (Still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt) I'm here in present tense An artifact and image Inside all the builds and relics Mr. Tim is here When Mr, Night Guy gets too perfect Ties it on a bit for treasure chests And pleasure's never where the head will reac, dear Here hearts Silk eyes Don't trust Tame scarves Legwaemwss Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Wedding bells And autocrats Grandfather clock and pendulum And scarities and garish art, And murderers upon the dusk The carriage sure to'ave spoken Crypt sinking, There faultlines, now quaking My hind legs are to shore And still my forelegs tip So why am I envious? It isn't athletics, I promise Its pages and pages Poems and proses Keep it together karassndra Why are you out all alone in a war zone without a gun? Why are you out with the bomb squad in a rainstorm Why are you known amongst all the lands? You won by a landslide but by a show of hands And a slight side of hands And a show to the world that you own what you're on, Let them come hold enough to hold you down with the motorcycles. No country for old nothing When the highlight of your whole life Is the subdural hematoma growing to the surface. And you were sure before you'd never have that part of your symmetry in tact again See how the devil surrounds us when we interact with God and pure genius Human will always kill God; He doesn't understand it The attacks and the tactical wall for sure come to a close; The whole empire is falling And Heaven is calling us home; This has been just a warning I'm still hiding j. The closet; I'm sure to fly your hawk back, homing, Nothing like a good pigeon, depending on the moment And deepening hour disinterest in anything? See how evil walks amongst us When you haven't come upon it in a moment Or have all your other targets lined up— Do remember dear ther it all comes back to haunt them When they're all younger And haven't been tortured yet The fun part first and the war part after; Sure to suffer if you're sure to hurt her Sure to muder for a quarter or a tucked shirt Sure to give a shit if just my mister in a basket Do you understand that? I won't Good good Goddamn I might have a heart attack I might have to kill myself I hate this place I'm tired now I dropped my hat . I'm an individual Stuck in a simulated and subject collective consciousness I'll tel you where the problem is I promise this It seemed more like a tactical marketing strategy than an actual accident, knowing the type of superstar Sonny had become. Yet, I couldn't help but give it a second thought, almost admiring it—whatever it was—as there is no such thing as bad press. As it all played out over social media—which I obstinately rejected, but however so embraced by those in what one used to call "the arts"—it felt undone; It was now strictly business within those very same markets. Here was this, an apparent plagiarism based on ‘outsourcing' a simple photo for a follow-up single to an album I knew I could not be moved to listen to, even after months. I had spent my own time, in a torturous chaos sense, researching these sorts of psychological tactics and strategies of such conglomerates. It seemed almost as if the negative and seemingly coincidental exposure was in congruency with the so very Skrillexian need to stay relevant to the newer age in changing times. He seemed to embrace some sort of artistic evolution, at least from what I could sense at a long and strong distance. However, my ability to understand the article I'd very much by accident stumbled upon—while overlooking my own dilapidated ticket stubs on Resident Advisor—cautioned at the kind of humbled and grown logic that had become what was left of my womanhood. I had in so many ways made a fool of myself, an embarrassment for what I thought of at the time in the name of love. Still, in all this time, I was so desolated and alone that it had become such an apparent and distraught sense of waking up to what formerly was. With this, I thought one of two things. I knew this Sonny, like most men of prestige, power, and great wealth, had devised his team of sharp-witted, intelligent, beautiful women. This apparent slip-up over the artwork for his latest endeavor—which I had, for every reason, protested in defense of my own dignity—was perhaps the result of a beautiful woman without creative ingenuity stealing the artwork in bad taste, as evidenced. Or—even more cunning—this was the wit of a trained and marginalized soldier in the art of programming. The apparent plagiarism was, in fact, another brutal and hollow Skrillefied market for attention. Over the last decade, he had no shortage of the ability to create and draw eyes to whatever art or concept was forced out of the mechanized monster. Still, there was a sharp growl. I knew I was meant to find this as a reminder of what I'd find if I looked any further or listened to his music anymore: a rise in sharp numbers, mass appeal tactics, and this-or-that shallow hogwash of distinctly skeletal bodies and avant-garde aesthetics. It pointed at the unachievable from my eyes and standpoint. It was the rockstar air and attire of everything I wasn't: strictly thin Hollywood or other ideals to which the construct was entitled, but I wasn't. I had to set out on my own way because what I had intended with music was jumbled into appearances, pornographic sexualities, and masculine dominance. It meant I had aged out of the desirability and affect these very same masses were being marketed from. Sure, I understood that the Skrillex project had established a sort of order for what the electronic festival industry wanted. But I also wanted something else accomplished in my time that wasn't just being some shallow, hot-girl, obscure go-after. The entire time, I had been under the impression of a duality of magnetism I often still had difficulty loosening myself from—that this illusion of an emotional tie or loveness, outside of what was a physical or illustrious concept, had no substance within the business at its core. It was, to say the least, a heartless world and a heartless business. Now that my own music was without purpose, I could forever distance myself from the other masses—the consumer-prosumer-commercialized "artists" that had sprung up out of access to the direct-to-streaming music market via technology and disposable funding. I had no way of embodying my mind to do away with the parts of me that needed to change to become one of them—in the sense that if my music looked and sounded alike, I would be embraced. But I was far from being the type of consciousness that had formed seemingly with the twist of a knob or an Ableton shortcut by one of electronic's founding fathers. In an unfortunate way, I had finally realized he was just that. — Death of A Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
03. s w e a t. Just pretend It's imminent; My relapse, As a drug I take it in in increments Collapse; My photographic image memory Serves me perfectly A classical caricature And still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt (Still I'm sure it's supposed to hurt) I'm here in present tense An artifact and image Inside all the builds and relics Mr. Tim is here When Mr, Night Guy gets too perfect Ties it on a bit for treasure chests And pleasure's never where the head will reac, dear Here hearts Silk eyes Don't trust Tame scarves Legwarmers Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Silk ties Autographs Wedding bells And autocrats Grandfather clock and pendulum And scarcities and garish art, And murderers upon the dusk The carriage sure to'ave spoken Crypt sinking, There faultlines, now quaking My hind legs are to shore And still my forelegs tip. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events.
We talk about which booth we'd want to work at at the Fair, try hitting the post like real DJs, and more!
We talk about which booth we'd want to work at at the Fair, try hitting the post like real DJs, and more!
We talk about which booth we'd want to work at at the Fair, try hitting the post like real DJs, and more!
— A House Built for Him — Visit Abidechurchfl.com for more info.———If you would like to give, you can go tohttps://www.Abidechurchfl.com/give or you can text any amount to 8432125
Adam and Abigail learn more about each other. Sam's plan crumbles as David's mind fractures. Nina returns.Graven was written and produced by Oliver Szabo. Adam was performed by Ian Blancas. Abigail was performed by Lindsay Zana. Sam was performed by Night Guy. Prophet Apothe was performed by Wyatt West. David was performed by Ethan Woodruff. G was performed by Brennen Blotner. Nina was performed by Maddie Girouard. Connor was voiced by Joe. Cult servant was performed by Jason. Original score composed by Night Guy and Blue Ayanami. Foley sampled from Freesound.org and recorded by Brosnan Szabo. End credit song by guitarstringtheory. Script edited by Brosnan Szabo. Visit https://gravenpod.carrd.co/ for updates and more, or join our discord community.Also, be sure to to check out fellow indie podcast- Englewood After Dark. https://open.spotify.com/show/4axKYWT3CRdXoDTWi9wwlb?si=f869ad45707c4fd3 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
David is in peril. Adam and Abigail receive messages from the prophet, and from a new threat sent by the cult. Sam hatches a plan. Graven was written and produced by Oliver Szabo. | G was performed by Brennen Blotner. David was performed by Ethan Woodruff. Adam was performed by Ian Blancas. Abigail was performed by Lindsay Zana. The foreign businessman was performed by Andrew Winson. Sammuel was performed by Night Guy. Prophet Apothe was performed by Wyatt West. | Original score composed by Night Guy and Blue Ayanami. Foley sampled from Freesound.org and recorded by Brosnan Szabo. Script edited by Brosnan Szabo. | Visit https://gravenpod.carrd.co/ for updates and more, or join our discord community. Also, be sure to to check out our friends and fellow indie podcasts- "SCPRA" https://scp-research-archives.pinecast.co/ , "Slowly Unspooling" https://www.tumblr.com/blog/slowly-unspooling . Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
You'll never be sorry you took good care of yourself, so why do you have to force yourself to work out or eat well or even get enough sleep? If it's because there's usually something more fun you could be doing instead, why do some of us have to force ourselves to have fun? Questions worth pondering in this edition of Doing What Works.Here are your show notes…Morning Guy wishes Night Guy would have gone to bed at a reasonable hour.“Rushmore Cave” is our family's way of saying, “Try it. You'll like it!”No swimsuit required!
David makes a friend. Adam defends his camp with help from a curious stranger.Graven was written and produced by Oliver Szabo.Adam was performed by Ian Blancas.Young Adam and Sammuel were performed by Night GuyDereck was performed by Tavis LeedsDavid was performed by Ethan Woodruff.Abigail was performed by Lindsay Zana.Original score composed by Night Guy and Blue Ayanami.Foley sampled from Freesound.org and recorded by Oliver Szabo.Script edited by Theo Armstrong.Visit https://gravenpod.carrd.co/ for updates and more, or join our discord community.Also, be sure to to check out "Before the Tone" from our friends at Knave of Hearts. https://open.spotify.com/show/1LhixRxJJtvHlD7b5ngd1I?si=37f3c3483115433dhttps://knaveofhearts.com/ Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
- Join the Kingpilled community: http://kingpilled.com - Follow Matt on Twitter: https://twitter.com/realkingpilled
The first week of March is in the books. So let's talk about what's trending.We get into: Sydney Sweeney on SNLTrump vs Biden AgainBottle night guyRihanna at billionairesSeth Rogen comment on kidsJake Paul Vs Mike TysonWoman turns 117Top 10 songs on SpotifyJake from State FarmTrader JoesAnd more...Check out this quality episode of the Productive Conversations Podcast, on all Podcasting Platforms and YouTube.YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@Productive_Conversations/LinkTree https://linktr.ee/productiveconversationsFollow us on Instagram@ProductiveConversationsPodcast@MattBrown300Follow us on Twitter@ProdConvoPod@Mattbrown31Follow us on TikTok@productiveconversationsBest way to contact our host is by emailing him at productiveconversationspodcast@gmail.comTo Find Our Show on Various Podcasting Platforms And YouTube, click on the following links below!Apple PodcastSpotifyYouTubeGoogle PodcastsTuneIn PodcastsStitcher PodcastsPandoraAudacy Amazon MusicAudibleiHeartRadio:PocketCastBullhornPodcast Addict
Cookie weekend recap….also it was bad day for the JETS Injured Grand Canyon hiker, 63, saved after friends abandoned him to continue backpacking Back to school Night/Guy's 10 year anniversary as a contributor to Fox. Upcoming Baby shower Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Jenny does Girl Math, We prank Vont the new Night Guy during Think Fast, You Can't Make This Up, & More!
Before I get into Spring Break traffic, I cover my car in Mucinex...It really thins out the congestion. Its that time of year again, spring is in full bloom. Today we warn you of the dangers of what can happen on spring break. Have a great day Everyone! Support Fiddly Dicking Merch Store - fiddlyshop.com (https://www.fiddlyshop.com) Tip Jar - Donate Today (https://www.paypal.com/donate?hosted_button_id=MJJXJ895WU3NY) Twitter: @fdicking (https://twitter.com/FDicking) Facebook: Fiddly Dicking Facebook Page (https://www.facebook.com/fiddlydicking/) Instagram: Fiddly Dicking Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/fiddlydicking/) YouTube: The Fiddly Dicking Show (https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2hQjlthkalz2IMEknmt0fg)
Dave talks about why he felt so bad for E. White (KDWB's Night Guy) last night, We talk about the Super Bowl Party, You Can't Make This Up, & More!
Dave talks about why he felt so bad for E. White (KDWB's Night Guy) last night, We talk about the Super Bowl Party, You Can't Make This Up, & More!
On today's episode, Todd and Scott talk about basement projects, hard kids, and one Hollywood star who is choosing to put his family first. Don't miss it. www.Familymanweb.com
Do you allow yourself the luxury of acting on impulse? Of following your heart before your head gets a chance to weigh in? The most important decisions aren't necessarily the most difficult, after all, and that's the case we make in this edition of Doing What Works.Here are your show notes…Casting director Jane Brody [https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0111036/bio] suggests you trust your first impression.Night Guy, Jerry Seinfeld [https://www.instagram.com/jerryseinfeld/] says, is prone to making life hell for Morning Guy.
It's World Week, and tonight our friend Guy is back to teach us more French! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Aviators on! See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
It's World Week, and tonight our friend Guy is back to teach us more French! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
9 - 21 - 21 ANDRE THE NEW NIGHT GUY by Maine's Coast 93.1
Recharting Your Life With Hope -Get Unstuck and Discover Direction, Purpose, and Joy for Your Life
It's easier to keep doing what we're doing and stay stuck. Making changes is hard, much harder. We all want the easy road, so we choose to stay stuck. If nothing changes, nothing changes. Ask yourself how happy you are with your current circumstances. Spoiler alert, you wouldn't be listening to this podcast if you were completely content with the way things are going. We're afraid of the unknown which is really a fear of failure (me trying out for Annie)Accept that there will be fear with change. Expect it, invite it in. Dance with the fear, whisper in his ear that you know he'll always be there, but you're choosing a new partner called courage. If you're a writer, write a letter to fear, and without giving it too much thought, let fear respond. See this exercise from Elizabeth Gilbert. To minimize fear, take tiny steps, bite-sized steps. When I thought about starting a podcast, I got overwhelmed with the big picture, it was too big and too scary. Instead of focusing on cover art, music, photo, social media, recording a trailer, buying a microphone, etc, I recorded a trailer. Take it one step at a time. Expect fear to be there for each step. Give him a nod and keep movin'. We'd have only ourselves to blame if things didn't go right. As long as we play it safe and don't act, we can keep blaming others for us being stuck. We can blame our circumstances, our kids, our spouse, etc. My mom dreamt of dancing in high heel tap shoes. She didn't blame not being able to do this at her age, having three kids, or a full-time job as a teacher, she signed up for class, bought her shoes, and tapped away. Friends and family expect us to be a certain way and to do things a certain way. If we change, we might disappoint them. An example is the Biggest Loser contestant who felt like he was leaving his mother behind after he lost a lot of weight. He felt her disapproval, so he gained the weight back. We're the average of the 5 people we spend the most time with, so decide who you want in your front row. Decide who you're going to let influence your decisions. Decide who you want to surround yourself with and ultimately, decide if this is your life you're living or theirs. The #1 regret of the dying is that they didn't live life on their own terms. They lived it on others' terms. We hold off doing things NOW because we think we can always do them LATER. We assume we can wait on our dreams. We put them off. How often do you hear about people who retire and within 6 months they have a stroke or develop cancer and never get a chance to live out their dream retirement? Write a letter to your future self at www.futureme.org Watch Jerry Seinfeld describe the two conflicting selves (he uses "Morning Guy" and "Night Guy" but you can substitute Future Me and Present Me. Shoot me an email at hope.cook@gmail.com or go to www.hopethepa.com
JJC CALL RILEY REED THE NEW NIGHT GUY by 101.9POR
Links https://www.annieduke.com/books/ Seinfeld on the ignoring the future and Night Guy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eHPtYfMh7A Summary Be objective by using the CUDOS method to determine if the information you have to make decisions is accurate and useful. C - Communism (not political communism) is about a group determined to share ideas with each other. When we hide information or don't give the people around us all the complete details, bad decisions and analyses happen. U – Universalism means evaluating all the information regardless of where it comes from. That's the other side of politics. Use additional information from lay-people or experts. We should take in information from everywhere to make the best decision possible. If we start carving out information, that reinforces the things we already believe. D – Disinterested means we're not really interested in becoming a better decision-maker. We're not really interested in learning the most important thing. We feel like maybe we know everything, or we know enough, or we don't really need this other information or that other information is no good anyway. We just become disinterested in other pieces of details that are there. That's also a bias. And that will keep us from carefully analyzing our decisions. OS - Organized Skepticism means that we take in the information from all the different places and have to really dive into whether that information is any good. Don't use "but" replace it with "and." It is less hostile, and the other person will feel less rejected. I like what you're doing here, and I'm worried that it's too much work. Focus on the future and think about "Day Guy" and "10 years from now, girl". Remember that the future is coming. If you can plan now to give yourself the future you want, you will gain the things you're looking to do for pre-plan or pre-commit. Either way, it helps you do better for the future. Create a penalty for mistakes. Make it fun, like a bet. Also, look at doing a premortem, decide ahead of time if this project were going to fail, and then plan how you're going to avoid those things. Use the 10/10/10 rule for decision-making. Think about what you're doing and how you're going to feel in 10 minutes, 10 months, and 10 years, and then decide if it's the best course to make right now. Act now. Keep going. If you don't start, you'll never get there. Challenge. Take the next 10 decisions you have to make and try the 10/10/10 plan. Write down what you'll feel in the next 10 minutes, the next 10 months, and the next 10 years?
Have you ever been caught in an avalanche or spoken to someone who survived? In this episode, you’ll hear what living through an avalanche is really like. Audun Hetland (a psychologist) and Andrea Mannberg (an economist) are researchers at the White Heat Project in Tromsø, Norway. The project is a collaboration between The Arctic University of Norway, Montana State University, and Umeå University, in Sweden. Their international team also includes researchers in geography, snow science, and political science. They are focused on the effects of positional preferences and bounded rationality on risk-taking behavior, and more specifically, skiing in avalanche terrain. As project leader, Andrea spoke about how this interdisciplinary team is helping backcountry skiers do a better job of managing their risk in avalanche terrain. To do so, they are studying decision-making under uncertainty and the curious way cold and hot states affect our choices. Their work has clear implications for corporate leaders who make decisions about budgets and human resources, and in many situations, the consequences can be quite high. In case you’re not familiar with Tromsø, Norway, it is a 2-hour flight north of the Arctic Circle. © 2020 Behavioral Grooves Links Andrea Mannberg, PhD and Audun Hetland, PhD: https://uit.no/research/care White Heat Project: https://whiteheatproject.com/ Bridger Bowl: https://bridgerbowl.com/ George Loewenstein & Dan Ariely’s paper on hot states vs. cold states: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/bdm.501 Seinfeld Morning Guy vs. Night Guy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEe2pN8oksc Max Bazerman “Better, Not Perfect” Episode 196: https://behavioralgrooves.com/episode/living-happier-by-making-the-world-better-with-max-bazerman/ Common Biases & Heuristics: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XHpBr0VFcaT8wIUpr-9zMIb79dFMgOVFRxIZRybiftI/edit?usp=sharing Musical Links John Coltrane “Green Dolphin Street”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePScRElDHOY Tom Waits “Tom Traubert’s Blues”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvFyt2kmrZk White Stripes “Seven Nation Army”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKdmdCtPtnQ Monster: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monster_(band) Monster: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0c9qOU7URKA43mMlgJApmV?si=we-OrwjYS4GVksnTwNOt4g The Clash “London Calling”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlLbrID7oDg Folk og Røvere: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5jVLZ3NoJJ5kRcSnYOgSHO Philter: http://open.spotify.com/album/1sbcw2kjPf5ZcLU5n7oGSt Andrea’s “dance song”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9GqMuW9_Z8 Isolation Years (A band from Andrea’s home town): https://open.spotify.com/album/4nNOnikF2OVzBF9BqNxkHb?si=7Tkv4JujTPy99WytOG1H8A The Knife: https://open.spotify.com/album/7lbXNgtug37CDpS7N7NkrL?si=AAwopJtDRQKpUe-EOJAYCw First Aid Kit: https://open.spotify.com/artist/21egYD1eInY6bGFcniCRT1?si=ASWNJUigSPKAjgUkG66DcQ
This week, I am joined by the Lore by Night Guy. If you’re unfamiliar, Lore by Night is a regular podcast that discusses the lore and legends of Vampire: the Masquerade. Lore by Night is an in-character, in-world production that is not only informative but expertly written and produced. Check it out on here or anywhere podcasts are found.
It's World Week, and tonight our friend Guy is back to teach us more French!
The reason why Seinfeld's Night Guy/Morning Guy bit is sooo good...is because it's so accurate!
What fate awaits this Roman merchant family when the dead stir once more? Guest starring the amazing Lore by Night Guy! ★ https://www.patreon.com/theprimogen ★ ★ https://twitter.com/ThePrimogen ★ ★ https://www.youtube.com/c/ThePrimogen ★
How can you tell if someone likes you, or if they’re just being nice, when you’re separated by a screen? In this weeks episode, Jen brings on a very special guest, the guy she noticed across the Zoom (aka Vinyl Night Guy.) The two banter about dating during lockdown, how they connected, what has lead him to being single and questions when people can start seeing each other again (and if said people can keep it in their pants, once they do). See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.
TRUTH OR DARE! I DARE YOU TO Enter The Poetreehouse! I am Spokenword Smith @Poetiiicnjustus Welcome to my Multiverse! I am creating Poetry, Music, Asmr, Anime, Art, Erotic Art, Podcasts, Photography, Graphic Designs and more! For as low as $3 You can Become an Official Poetreehouse Patron + Upgrade and Access the Erotic Poetree house! (AUDITORY OASIS PODCAST + POETREE HOUSE PODCAST/EROTIC POETREE HOUSE) Episodes before the rest of the world! + Unlock *EXCLUSIVE* Unreleased Music (snippets) (full songs) (digital) + Behind the scenes photography + Unreleased photos/videos + Access The Decoded Series + Request a Poem + Vote on Patron only polls + Access the Untold Story Time Series + Exclusive Erotic Poetree House Videos + Exclusive Look into "Indie Samurai" The Ep + Anime Stickman Fighting Series (Directed by: @Poetiiicnjustus and Animated by Eli the Night Guy (youtube)) + Sneak Peak at Book (StraightouttaInnerspace: The Laws of NJustus) + Cane carving + Merch deals + Album/ Poem Creation Process + Work in Progress Updates + Regular poetry related uploads. Please support my very first Podcast, " Auditory Oasis" for as little as $1/mo ! Via http:anchor.fm/poetiiic/support and/or become an Official Poetree Patron & Enter The Poetree House if you dare! Here, I will provide the donating party with a plethora of inside knowledge on the state of The Quantohm Community, Spiritual life hacks, Thought provoking Poetry and High Quality art from my heart, which i wear on my sleeveless!
In an episode of the television series Seinfeld, Jerry does a standup bit where he talks about staying up too late at night. He says, “I’m Night Guy. Night Guy wants to stay up late,” to which he then replies, “What about getting up after five hours of sleep?” The answer? “That’s Morning Guy’s problem.” This illustrates a challenge that we all face: How do you stick to positive long-term goals in the face of negative short-term temptations? In this episode of Choiceology with Katy Milkman, we look at strategies to help keep Night Guy in check, so that Morning Guy can wake up well-rested.The episode begins with two short tales of temptation. The first is the mythical story of Ulysses (Odysseus) avoiding the tantalizing but dangerous songs of the sirens. The second is an account of Victor Hugo’s struggles to complete his novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame in the face of his own procrastination. In both stories, the protagonist employs a clever strategy to reach his goals.For another illustration, we turn to Dean Karlan. Dean is a founder of StickK, a website and app that helps people commit to achieving goals using contracts with real stakes. The idea for StickK came about through Dean’s personal struggle to lose weight. He decided to leverage what he’d learned about human behavior as an economist. He drew up a contract with a friend--someone who was also struggling with his weight--that would oblige each of them to pay the other thousands of dollars if they failed in their quest to shed pounds.Dean Karlan is a professor of economics and finance at the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University. He is also the co-author of More Than Good Intentions: Improving the Ways the World’s Poor Borrow, Save, Farm, Learn, and Stay Healthy.To look at the science behind commitment strategies, Katy is joined by behavioral economist and best-selling author Dan Ariely. You’ll hear how commitment devices can be used to help people overcome procrastination, save money for the future, and eat more vegetables. You’ll also hear about some of Dan’s favorite studies, in which these commitment devices improved post-operative outcomes for heart surgery patients and helped students better manage their workloads.Dan Ariely is the James B. Duke Professor of Psychology and Behavioral Economics at Duke University. He is also the author of Predictably Irrational and The (Honest) Truth About Dishonesty.Choiceology is an original podcast from Charles Schwab. For more on the series, visit schwab.com/podcast.If you enjoy the show, please leave a ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ rating or review on Apple Podcasts.Important Disclosures:All expressions of opinion are subject to change without notice in reaction to shifting market conditions.The comments, views, and opinions expressed in the presentation are those of the speakers and do not necessarily represent the views of Charles Schwab.Data contained herein from third-party providers is obtained from what are considered reliable sources. However, its accuracy, completeness or reliability cannot be guaranteed.(1219-9PPT)
Dominic and Erica discuss Bonfire Night in Britain and the traditions and food that surround this holiday. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/teaandabutty/support
Dominic and Erica discuss Bonfire Night in Britain and the traditions and food that surround this holiday. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/teaandabutty/support
Weezee and Slammy B get into the Chilis' second album with renewed purpose after they both really enjoyed the debut album. The two talk Mike's poor hosting abilities and the infamous "Night Guy"--along with their favorite tracks from the album.
On this episode, Jamie gets emotional as her youngest inches closer to graduation and the Ugs review a list of secret things guys do that women have no idea about. Plus, apparently the sex doll fad is ready for its next phase and - of course - the #SistersWhoPodcast have Uglee and Awkward Moments to share. Thanks for listening.
It's World Week, and tonight our friend Guy is back to teach us more French!
What you’ll hear in this episode: • I’ll introduce you to the concept of the “rentrée” in France (basically back-to-school but for adults and kids alike!). • We’ll discuss how this time of year can be an opportunity to take stock of what we have accomplished and learned in the past year and set our intentions for the year to come. • I will provide you with some tips for how to begin to build habits in the service of your goals so that you can continue to make progress throughout the year on the things that are most important to you. Resources mentioned in this episode: • For those of you currently focused on helping kids make a transition to a new school (possibly in a new country), be sure to go back and listen to my conversation with Kate Berger from the Expat Kids Club in episode 22, where we talk about how parents can support their kids through relocation. • In talking about how we can take care of our future selves, I mentioned a funny episode of the show Seinfeld with “Night Guy” and “Morning Guy.” While the entire episode does not seem to be available online, here is a short Seinfeld sketch on this topic. • And here is a great article from the Atlantic on the same subject, entitled, “Self-Control Is Just Empathy With Your Future Self.” Stay in Touch! To make sure you don’t miss future episodes of Mindful Expat, you can subscribe to the podcast through iTunes, Stitcher, or your favorite podcasting app. To receive monthly summaries of podcast episodes and stay up to date on other announcements and resources, sign up for the Mindful Expat Podcast Newsletter! (When you sign up, you’ll also receive a free mp3 guided mindfulness exercise to practice on your own!) And, finally, if you’d like to get in touch and leave me a voice message with a question or comment that may be played in a future episode, you can do so here!
Hayden, Blair, and Noah answer questions regarding relationships with all high school and middle school boys.
Hayden, Blair, and Noah answer questions regarding relationships with all high school and middle school boys.
What you’ll hear in this episode: • I'll introduce you to the concept of the "rentrée" in France (basically back-to-school but for adults and kids alike!). • We'll discuss how this time of year can be an opportunity to take stock of what we have accomplished and learned in the past year and set our intentions for the year to come. • I will provide you with some tips for how to begin to build habits in the service of your goals so that you can continue to make progress throughout the year on the things that are most important to you. Resources mentioned in this episode: • For those of you currently focused on helping kids make a transition to a new school (possibly in a new country), be sure to go back an listen to my conversation with Kate Berger from the Expat Kids Club in episode 22, where we talk about how parents can support their kids through relocation. • In talking about how we can take care of our future selves, I mentioned a funny episode of the show Seinfeld with "Night Guy" and "Morning Guy." While the entire episode does not seem to be available online, here is a short Seinfeld sketch on this topic. • And here is a great article from the Atlantic on the same subject, entitled, "Self-Control Is Just Empathy With Your Future Self." Stay in Touch! To make sure you don’t miss future episodes of Mindful Expat, you can subscribe to the podcast through iTunes, Stitcher, or your favorite podcasting app. To receive monthly summaries of podcast episodes and stay up to date on other announcements and resources, sign up for the Mindful Expat Podcast Newsletter! (When you sign up, you’ll also receive a free mp3 guided mindfulness exercise to practice on your own!) And, finally, if you’d like to get in touch and leave me a voice message with a question or comment that may be played in a future episode, you can do so here!
Are you still being judged on old stuff? When did your kid say something that you had to explain? At what age are you the happiest? Laura wants to raise chickens... and we meet the new Night Guy on XL
The Dirty Dowdy Podcast finished off 2016 with a huge show, and some sad news. This is the end of the line for ‘the Dirty Dowdy Podcast.’ And to end it off we had Night Guy Drew Hyatt of New Rock 104.1 in the studio. Show Summary: The show started off with the announcement that […]
Welcome to Light On Light Through, Episode 62: Star Trek: Reborn, Reset, Resplendent ... in which I explain how the new May 2009 Star Trek movie succeeded in delighting lifelong fans (including me) as well as reinventing the Star Trek universe from the beginning (which I also immensely enjoyed) ... hint: think time-travel ...Helpful links: complete blog post: Star Trek: Reborn, Reset, Resplendent historical context: How Star Trek Liberated Television blogs about time travel check out Night Guy - our latest promo-suite podcast partner Enjoy... home page: http://paullevinson.infomore blogs: http://InfiniteRegress.tv and http://www.myspace.com/twiceuponarhyme videoclips: http://www.youtube.com/user/PLev20062006 my latest novel: The Plot to Save Socrates"challenging fun" - Entertainment Weekly"Da Vinci-esque thriller" - New York Daily News and Brian Charles Clarke says The Plot to Save Socrates "resonates with the current political climate . . . heroine Sierra Waters is sexy as hell . . . there's a bite to Levinson's wit" -- in Curled Up With A Good Book Read the first chapter of The Plot to Save Socrates .... FREE
© 2020-2025 Ivy Podcast Discovery LLC
