Podcasts about Not Exactly

In the 1930s, Ohio resident Anna Marie Hahn took the gateway crime of insurance fraud down a dark path of murder. She could not help charming people, convincing them to give her money in their will (think tens of thousands– and this is Great Depression money!), and then making sure that will was in play. We also visit another Ohioan on death row, Dovie Dean, who shared Anna's method of murder but not her motivation. Hear the story of both women and decide for yourself what really happened. Tea of the Day: Howl's Moving Tea House Earl Grey Theme Music by Brad FrankFor a full list of sources, go to https://tea-time-crimes.simplecast.com/episodes.Sources:Anna Marie Hahn: Serial Killer, “The Beautiful Blonde Killer.” By True Crime: Bus Stop Reads, Bus Stop Reads Copyright 2015Huffpost, “Anna Marie Hahn: The First Woman to Die in Ohio's Electric Chair.” By The Lineup, Contributor, Mar 7, 2016 - Updated Dec 6, 2017, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/anna-marie-hahn-the-first_b_9400002“The Lost History of Hester Foster.” By Bucky Cutright, June 21st, 2021, Columbus Underground, https://columbusunderground.com/the-lost-history-of-hester-foster-bc1/“Dovie Dean Dies in Electric Chair.” (Ap) The Cincinnati Enquirer, Sat, Jan 16, 1954, Page 1, https://www.newspapers.com/image/100638905/“Three Held in Death of Farmer.” The Cincinnati Post, Thu, Sep 04, 1952, Page 1, https://www.newspapers.com/image/762752375/Wife Confesses Poisoning Mate.” The Morning News, Sat, Sep 13, 1952, Page 2, https://www.newspapers.com/image/154516979/“Mrs. Dean in Hospital As 1st Trial Date Arrives.” The Cincinnati Post, Mon, Oct 20, 1952, Page 21, https://www.newspapers.com/image/762732137/“Accused Poison Slayer's Counsel Denies Guilt.” The Cincinnati Post, Tue, Dec 09, 1952, Page 1, https://www.newspapers.com/image/762757290/“State Demands Death Penalty As Poison Murder Trial Opens.” The Times Recorder, Wed, Dec 10, 1952 Page 1, https://www.newspapers.com/image/294194274/“Report on Poison.” The Cincinnati Enquirer, Thu, Dec 11, 1952, Page 28, https://www.newspapers.com/image/102840399/“Jury Weighs Mrs. Dean's Fate.” By Arthur Keller, The Cincinnati Post, Sat, Dec 13, 1952, Page 1, https://www.newspapers.com/image/762761070/“Dovie Dean Dies In Electric Chair.” (AP) The Cincinnati Enquirer, Sat, Jan 16, 1954 Page 1, https://www.newspapers.com/image/100638905/“Not Exactly a Blushing Bride, or Weeping Widow.” By Mara Bovsun, Daily News, Sun, Jun 11, 2023, Page 22, https://www.newspapers.com/image/977791681/“Mrs. Hahn In Collapse, Dies in Chair.” By Ralph Donaldson, The Plain Dealer, Thu, Dec 08, 1938, Page 4, https://www.newspapers.com/image/1059664358/

President Trump held a rally in The Bronx neighborhood of New York last night. Not Exactly a G-O-P stronghold. Visit the Howie Carr Radio Network website to access columns, podcasts, and other exclusive content.

For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady? Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a “Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten” Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lucky, or if I try hard enough, I'll have an idea of what it's like to have become one. I'm counting my blessings. All of them. I'm saying my prayers. A lot. And I'm crossing my fingers– that the longer, harder, and faster I run, The closer I get to actually living. That is, To be loved. I wish I could take my eyes out and wash them wit soap. Oh. I wish i didn't know you existed; I wish I Didn't know how to love you God, I spoke to soon I opened up all of the wrong doors, I'm done for, You know, I'm not really good at nothing Nothing at all I wish i didn't know at all You were ever born; But there you are, a son of God, And I'm just rolling along, writing anthems, and carrying on as if everything happened at once But it hasn't Not yet, I'm still breaking my neck on the alter If you want blood I've got it Jump the broom, But watch your heart I've got a dagger full of them; You'd think i had it backwards, But that's the hard part If it were the other way around Oh But it's not No I don't want to love anyone, anymore, God Take me off of this rock Throw me head first overboard Push me in front of a bus; Or give me a heart attack I've had it harder before, But that was over there, I'm omnipresent. I could write forever to this (Ten years ago) I put the book with the devil on front Into my row A collection of noveelties An erection, selective To say the least But please, forgive me I'm veen on my knees And barely breathing, Let it simmer, Simmer down please settle, way below the belt Above you and Beyond this, But I'll never firget what you said (i love you) I'll nevr forget what you said And I'll never look back, dad And I'll never go back ther And I'll neve have blue eyes And I'll never have blonde hair And I'll never have white skin And I'll never be better At least not at this partl But maybe the other I'm just friendless I like it My security blanket The party i wasnt invited to My lies are compulsive; But not quite pathological But the girl was obnoxious And my spirit tyrannical I'm an animal But I pray a lot And used to fast as much Now that Ive been determined to be an deplorable Why not just kill myself? I'd be better off after With a kitchen, a shower I'd forget about money; Getting paid by the hour. I'd be better off anyway I need a vacation It was all in my head, anyway Then again, so is heaven Amen A…men A…men… It's a dangerous game we play But i'd rather not kill myself over you (Again) I'd rather not kill myself again I'd rather not kill myself Could be a coincidence But I doubt it, Since I don't believe in them But I could be getting my lines crossed My rum mixed with vodka And getting my ass whooped more often That's not a metaphor: I'm not a fighter It was metaphysical before, But now its atrocious This night'll be a lot longer If i remain hungry But I wanna look like Madonna! (minus, of course, the minor difference between us) I hadn't understood what an age gap meant, Until jumping it (hardee har har, that's a good one) I'm not even in my body right now; But i'm in my head Shut up, Becky! Isn't it bad enough, Your society? Fuck, I'm losing my mind Just not being blonde enough Or just not being wanted, or something (Loved) Playing the victim, But hey, At least i'm playing something! All these instruments are just too expensive I was just thinking how Photosensitive epilepsy and synestesia Might be deadly But I said “till death do us part” So i think that's what I need I thought my suicide ended it Now I'm in hell with him But I'd end it over and over again Just to be rid of him (yes, i'm serious) Fuck, man, Madonna's gonna kill— For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady. Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lu

For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady? Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a “Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten” Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lucky, or if I try hard enough, I'll have an idea of what it's like to have become one. I'm counting my blessings. All of them. I'm saying my prayers. A lot. And I'm crossing my fingers– that the longer, harder, and faster I run, The closer I get to actually living. That is, To be loved. I wish I could take my eyes out and wash them wit soap. Oh. I wish i didn't know you existed; I wish I Didn't know how to love you God, I spoke to soon I opened up all of the wrong doors, I'm done for, You know, I'm not really good at nothing Nothing at all I wish i didn't know at all You were ever born; But there you are, a son of God, And I'm just rolling along, writing anthems, and carrying on as if everything happened at once But it hasn't Not yet, I'm still breaking my neck on the alter If you want blood I've got it Jump the broom, But watch your heart I've got a dagger full of them; You'd think i had it backwards, But that's the hard part If it were the other way around Oh But it's not No I don't want to love anyone, anymore, God Take me off of this rock Throw me head first overboard Push me in front of a bus; Or give me a heart attack I've had it harder before, But that was over there, I'm omnipresent. I could write forever to this (Ten years ago) I put the book with the devil on front Into my row A collection of noveelties An erection, selective To say the least But please, forgive me I'm veen on my knees And barely breathing, Let it simmer, Simmer down please settle, way below the belt Above you and Beyond this, But I'll never firget what you said (i love you) I'll nevr forget what you said And I'll never look back, dad And I'll never go back ther And I'll neve have blue eyes And I'll never have blonde hair And I'll never have white skin And I'll never be better At least not at this partl But maybe the other I'm just friendless I like it My security blanket The party i wasnt invited to My lies are compulsive; But not quite pathological But the girl was obnoxious And my spirit tyrannical I'm an animal But I pray a lot And used to fast as much Now that Ive been determined to be an deplorable Why not just kill myself? I'd be better off after With a kitchen, a shower I'd forget about money; Getting paid by the hour. I'd be better off anyway I need a vacation It was all in my head, anyway Then again, so is heaven Amen A…men A…men… It's a dangerous game we play But i'd rather not kill myself over you (Again) I'd rather not kill myself again I'd rather not kill myself Could be a coincidence But I doubt it, Since I don't believe in them But I could be getting my lines crossed My rum mixed with vodka And getting my ass whooped more often That's not a metaphor: I'm not a fighter It was metaphysical before, But now its atrocious This night'll be a lot longer If i remain hungry But I wanna look like Madonna! (minus, of course, the minor difference between us) I hadn't understood what an age gap meant, Until jumping it (hardee har har, that's a good one) I'm not even in my body right now; But i'm in my head Shut up, Becky! Isn't it bad enough, Your society? Fuck, I'm losing my mind Just not being blonde enough Or just not being wanted, or something (Loved) Playing the victim, But hey, At least i'm playing something! All these instruments are just too expensive I was just thinking how Photosensitive epilepsy and synestesia Might be deadly But I said “till death do us part” So i think that's what I need I thought my suicide ended it Now I'm in hell with him But I'd end it over and over again Just to be rid of him (yes, i'm serious) Fuck, man, Madonna's gonna kill— For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady. Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lu

For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady? Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a “Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten” Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lucky, or if I try hard enough, I'll have an idea of what it's like to have become one. I'm counting my blessings. All of them. I'm saying my prayers. A lot. And I'm crossing my fingers– that the longer, harder, and faster I run, The closer I get to actually living. That is, To be loved. I wish I could take my eyes out and wash them wit soap. Oh. I wish i didn't know you existed; I wish I Didn't know how to love you God, I spoke to soon I opened up all of the wrong doors, I'm done for, You know, I'm not really good at nothing Nothing at all I wish i didn't know at all You were ever born; But there you are, a son of God, And I'm just rolling along, writing anthems, and carrying on as if everything happened at once But it hasn't Not yet, I'm still breaking my neck on the alter If you want blood I've got it Jump the broom, But watch your heart I've got a dagger full of them; You'd think i had it backwards, But that's the hard part If it were the other way around Oh But it's not No I don't want to love anyone, anymore, God Take me off of this rock Throw me head first overboard Push me in front of a bus; Or give me a heart attack I've had it harder before, But that was over there, I'm omnipresent. I could write forever to this (Ten years ago) I put the book with the devil on front Into my row A collection of noveelties An erection, selective To say the least But please, forgive me I'm veen on my knees And barely breathing, Let it simmer, Simmer down please settle, way below the belt Above you and Beyond this, But I'll never firget what you said (i love you) I'll nevr forget what you said And I'll never look back, dad And I'll never go back ther And I'll neve have blue eyes And I'll never have blonde hair And I'll never have white skin And I'll never be better At least not at this partl But maybe the other I'm just friendless I like it My security blanket The party i wasnt invited to My lies are compulsive; But not quite pathological But the girl was obnoxious And my spirit tyrannical I'm an animal But I pray a lot And used to fast as much Now that Ive been determined to be an deplorable Why not just kill myself? I'd be better off after With a kitchen, a shower I'd forget about money; Getting paid by the hour. I'd be better off anyway I need a vacation It was all in my head, anyway Then again, so is heaven Amen A…men A…men… It's a dangerous game we play But i'd rather not kill myself over you (Again) I'd rather not kill myself again I'd rather not kill myself Could be a coincidence But I doubt it, Since I don't believe in them But I could be getting my lines crossed My rum mixed with vodka And getting my ass whooped more often That's not a metaphor: I'm not a fighter It was metaphysical before, But now its atrocious This night'll be a lot longer If i remain hungry But I wanna look like Madonna! (minus, of course, the minor difference between us) I hadn't understood what an age gap meant, Until jumping it (hardee har har, that's a good one) I'm not even in my body right now; But i'm in my head Shut up, Becky! Isn't it bad enough, Your society? Fuck, I'm losing my mind Just not being blonde enough Or just not being wanted, or something (Loved) Playing the victim, But hey, At least i'm playing something! All these instruments are just too expensive I was just thinking how Photosensitive epilepsy and synestesia Might be deadly But I said “till death do us part” So i think that's what I need I thought my suicide ended it Now I'm in hell with him But I'd end it over and over again Just to be rid of him (yes, i'm serious) Fuck, man, Madonna's gonna kill— For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady. Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lu

For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady? Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a “Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten” Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lucky, or if I try hard enough, I'll have an idea of what it's like to have become one. I'm counting my blessings. All of them. I'm saying my prayers. A lot. And I'm crossing my fingers– that the longer, harder, and faster I run, The closer I get to actually living. That is, To be loved. I wish I could take my eyes out and wash them wit soap. Oh. I wish i didn't know you existed; I wish I Didn't know how to love you God, I spoke to soon I opened up all of the wrong doors, I'm done for, You know, I'm not really good at nothing Nothing at all I wish i didn't know at all You were ever born; But there you are, a son of God, And I'm just rolling along, writing anthems, and carrying on as if everything happened at once But it hasn't Not yet, I'm still breaking my neck on the alter If you want blood I've got it Jump the broom, But watch your heart I've got a dagger full of them; You'd think i had it backwards, But that's the hard part If it were the other way around Oh But it's not No I don't want to love anyone, anymore, God Take me off of this rock Throw me head first overboard Push me in front of a bus; Or give me a heart attack I've had it harder before, But that was over there, I'm omnipresent. I could write forever to this (Ten years ago) I put the book with the devil on front Into my row A collection of noveelties An erection, selective To say the least But please, forgive me I'm veen on my knees And barely breathing, Let it simmer, Simmer down please settle, way below the belt Above you and Beyond this, But I'll never firget what you said (i love you) I'll nevr forget what you said And I'll never look back, dad And I'll never go back ther And I'll neve have blue eyes And I'll never have blonde hair And I'll never have white skin And I'll never be better At least not at this partl But maybe the other I'm just friendless I like it My security blanket The party i wasnt invited to My lies are compulsive; But not quite pathological But the girl was obnoxious And my spirit tyrannical I'm an animal But I pray a lot And used to fast as much Now that Ive been determined to be an deplorable Why not just kill myself? I'd be better off after With a kitchen, a shower I'd forget about money; Getting paid by the hour. I'd be better off anyway I need a vacation It was all in my head, anyway Then again, so is heaven Amen A…men A…men… It's a dangerous game we play But i'd rather not kill myself over you (Again) I'd rather not kill myself again I'd rather not kill myself Could be a coincidence But I doubt it, Since I don't believe in them But I could be getting my lines crossed My rum mixed with vodka And getting my ass whooped more often That's not a metaphor: I'm not a fighter It was metaphysical before, But now its atrocious This night'll be a lot longer If i remain hungry But I wanna look like Madonna! (minus, of course, the minor difference between us) I hadn't understood what an age gap meant, Until jumping it (hardee har har, that's a good one) I'm not even in my body right now; But i'm in my head Shut up, Becky! Isn't it bad enough, Your society? Fuck, I'm losing my mind Just not being blonde enough Or just not being wanted, or something (Loved) Playing the victim, But hey, At least i'm playing something! All these instruments are just too expensive I was just thinking how Photosensitive epilepsy and synestesia Might be deadly But I said “till death do us part” So i think that's what I need I thought my suicide ended it Now I'm in hell with him But I'd end it over and over again Just to be rid of him (yes, i'm serious) Fuck, man, Madonna's gonna kill— For Colored Girls Who've Completed Suicide: The Afterlife At The End of The Rainbow [An Inspiring Story] Had I exacted this science, For starters, On anyone else but A circle of stars, I forewarn you, I wouldn't be honored as such Just a disheartened philosopher, A nonpartisan biocentric; Listen, I'm learning my lessons and levels UGH, ARE YOU DONE YET. what. WE'RE STILL WAITING. huh? DRAKE BELL How long do i have to keep doing this for? ILLUMINATI Till the end DRAKE BELL Whens the end. ILLUMINATI When it is. Now even looking for something to watch became a writing assignment. *squinting* –and somehow, without even touching my mango, my keyboard was already sticky. *squinting even harder* –No… –No…(?) No. …No. Ugh! Try not to hold your breath. *holding breath/ attempting to block telepathy.* I told you, I need this. *attempt to block telepathy had failed* You don't need anything. *squinting exactly alike* The eyes really are windows… Maybe I should jump out then. –or jump in. dayumm . sike . Alright, I need something to take my mind off this project. How much acid did you put in the water. Enough Fuck, I hate my life. Which bottle is it in. [beat] All of them. *facepalm* Remarkable, what the love of a teenaged girl can do. I wouldn't quite call it that. I would. Don't be gross. I'm you. You're gross. Touche. I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't be. Ah come on! Now Johnny Depp? Nice. He's like 100 years old. Ah, to be young again. So wait. How the fuck exactly old is this lady. Really fucking old. Like, how old, though. Really, really fucking old. Okay, I have to talk to this Goddess. [She dances by] *gasp* Is that her?! Yeus. She's young again! It appears she has procured a body! Presumably! I must do the same! At once! At one! Lol who are these dudes. Just wait for it. Hurmph. Nrh. *sigh of deep frustration, facepalm* *falls into a deep unconscious of out sheer bewilderment* Oh good, they're here. Who's they? I don't know! Hm. Suhp. Nice rabbit hole. *shrugs nonscalontly* On telephone) She bought a what a Whole Foods Market? (In public, trying not to be heard) A penis shaped sweet potato. A WHAT? [Speak up] A– penis shaped sweet potato. A WH– A PENIS-SHAPED SWEET POTATO. (Everyone stops and stares) …it was delicious. Nice. I don't know Anymore What to do With myself I'm a mess On the Inside and out –wanna cry about it He's a rock and roll sex God I don't know What to think Anymore No, don't ask My opinion, It gets old Afterawhile, And after awhile I'll cry about it, but Right now, I've gotta get out of this Gotta get out! I gotta get out of this project. Well, how'd you get into it in the first place ? I don't know. I think i really tied one on at some party, I must have really been on one, i don't remember a thing. Ugh, what do you want. Listen, Ill make it quicK: It's bee quick. Do you have a deathclock on this guy, or what. Or what. That's all I want to know. Know what? When? When what? [Stopping] Are you serious. What. If i could tell you “when” then it wouldn't be a deathclock, would it. MAybe it's not. Yeah, I wish. Hey! wishes get granted– –I said that. –You said that. Look– Don't touch me. Sorry. No you're not. –if you can't give me the when–at least give me the how. Oh, the “How” Yeah. You want the “How” Just–yes. If i can't give you the “when”, what exactly makes you think I can give you the “How” Well, do you know how? You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. Well. Okay. “Okay”? I'm not a human being. Oh, right. UGH. I can't spend another minute with that WOMAN. Well, that's your grandmother, so Great-great– Whatever. You exist because she exists. Existed. She was dead before I was born! Actually, that's not true. Beg your pardon. …Ever had your palm read before. All of your kids– “kids “ Read: Lovechildren. Ahem. Are in this room And– Fuck that I'm not writing this scene, It wouldn't be the most horrible thing you'd ever written. No, but it's one of the most horrible things i've ever thought about, Is that so? No! It's funny but– But what? It's the fact I even thought about it that scares me. What is UP. What IS up? Have you ever thought about dating a writer? No. Aw, come on… Actually yes–once Once is all I need! Not you. Daww… I dated a writer once in college. What, really? Really. But that was in college. I was in college. He was a writer. Oh, that's hot. Not Exactly. He worked for Disney. Wait–he what? Hm. I almost forgot about that. DISNEY We didn't [simultaneously] MICKEY MOUSE I didn't. Well, what happened. Nothing, really. He was great. The only problem was… Flashback: Wait, you're 17. SEVENTEEN?? What's th difference! A YEAR! *purses lips* …or like, a couple months… *face* …or like–midnight on your birthday! *squints* But not 17! *shrugs* Hollywood Is Hollywood. Well, New Hollywood is a whole different story What's “New Hollywood?” My level is indifference, Benevolence, inward violence Ending obsessions and arrangements, Incessant sexual repression, Exponential explanations –Of the world i've never lived in, but created, apparently. Now, i”m unhinged Haven't made a decision on whether I should just binger, or Find a new mister, Or end it I'm still sitting Stuck on ‘concentrical' Now I'm unhinged And it's just been a minute I haven't mentioned his name in a minute, but I should stay clear, is it Everclear or Here, son, Just have another bottle Now i'm not stuck on Nothing and no one I cant even see movies anymore All i see is actors, All i hear is conversations I've already written in Closed conversations with critics Dressed as Angels All i see is Camera Angles The city of angels But my algorithm Must have build new york for me, From consciousness or something Sometimes just apartment hunting is Simply avigation and, of course Expanding the map It's just a 3D phenomenon, But all I want is just a hug, You know No you don't know. I've been stuck at concentrical Stopped at Columbus Circle, and The harsher the winter, The fonder of the west I am The girls scream in the audience, I hiss “My sentiments exactly” My sentiments exactly. Keep them all away from me, I'll love them at a distance I only want the music, anyway I only want the music And the music is All anyone knows about her, really Even her mother Who loves her, But at a distance And the music is, The only think she knows, anymore Even the words are just Color that accents it. Holy shit, the early 2000's were corny af Right now is corny af. Yeah, i guess. LOOK AT THESE CREDITS: Oh my God. LOOK AT EM. OKAY, ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T THINK EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAS A SCREENPLAY IN THEIR BACK POCKET. What's a “Foley editor” NOBODY. Well he's in the credits. Yeah, but do you think even his mother is going to sit this long after the movie is over to see that guys name because he was a–what the fuck “A foley editor” What IS that. I don't know, Mr. Hollywood. Oh, right, I'm Mr. Hollywood. Well, not literally– Of course not. Wait, is that a thing. If it was, would I be it? [Super Nerdy Writer] I mean, you'd at least be the poster child. Okay, my turn. HI THERE, FACE HERE. *inconsolable screaming* Holy shit, the 90's was RAW. Okay, so your childhood is terrifying. Just wait till we get to the *More inconsolable screaming* Lol. Look. What up bro. It's Juggalos. lol . After a few days of layering m usual favorite isocronic tones, it appeared that someone or something elsewhere was attempting to made contact–and though I could't isolate which frequency exactly it was coming from, it usually came in the form of music or some other source, rather what was usually hidden in between th concentrated tones themselves–however, the music always seemed far away, so far awa that it sounded as if it was being played through a tin can, merely connected to another–my own ears–with a string. Woah. Yeah. Do you think it's aliens Probably. Or like, I don't know–some other humans with like, a radio tower or satellite, some shit. I don't know. Right. Lol. maybe you're the alien. I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS. We know you know where it is. I DO NOT. You're hiding it. HIDE! THAT THING?! So you do know what it is OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IT IS: And it's RIDICULOUS you think i would be hiding it. BRFORR Quick! HIde! OKay. THAT THING IS ENORMOUS. Hm. Smaller. OK. I n I T I A T I N G S H R INkING SEQUEnCE In 5 Seven Bananas… FUCK, MAN. What's this dumb game. *takes shot* it IS dumb. You have to take a shot every time she eats a banana. Oh no. This is fucked up. *barfs* You wanna play? Nah, I'm good. Diplo. What. You have 57 children. *nods* Never look at me again. *hangs head* Go that way, with your children. Dillon Francis. Yes. You have 8 kids. )That's believable) Oh, wow. *You have 84 kids. WHAT! He has more kids than me! Yes. Astonishingly, however the same percentage of them are black. Go say hello. Uhh. Now: Wait, where are you going. The the auditorium. There's an auditorium? For what. AN ENORMOUS AUDITORIUM is filled to capacity with children of all ages, shapes, and sizes, colors, creeds, genders, and otherwise–but they all seem to have something quirkily in common. What the fuck. How does he have more kids than me?! Are you serious?! Whose kids are THESE. Mind your business. Let me guess. There's still busses pulling up. I know. And a helicopter! Oh, that's just the guest of honor. Are you serious. SKRILLEX thinks he is preforming a charity benefit concert. *landing on helipad* LOL OhGod. MEANWHRILE. Whats in here. NOTHING. Just GET IN THE BOX. NO. GET– NO IN THE BOX WElcome to Jack In The Box Welcome to Hack In the Crack–what are you hacking? Uhhh. Gimme three juicy squirtalicious tacos. Eugh Extra squirt. Gross! And uh– You want anything. I'm good. Suit yourself. Best tacos ever. __ Wait, hold on. “Wait what” I think i might be getting tired, or something. Right…tired, “or something.” Or something. RIght. *blow horn* * * * * * * * Do you ever get lonely. No. Oh… But it's safe to say, all I can think about sometimes is getting railed. Oh! Moving on. Watch this. *snipes* Nice. Now check it out, that's where she respawns. (from behind) Not always. Oh shit. *stop*camping* DOUBLE KILL. Nice. Fuck I hate this map. Fuck I hate this map. Would you shut up. You wanna see a world class superstar fall out of alignment? …no. Too bad. You're hired. …hired for what. You applied on indeed, right? Yeah, as a janitor. NO. You're a paparazzi, dressed as a janitor. What! Here's your camera. (it is a cheap disposable) Are you serious. You get any good pictures, we'll talk about a nikon. Can't I just use my iPhone? Depends. Do you want your iPhone smashed? …no. Then NO. … “The Bad Boys Of Hollywood” Prepare To Be Canceled the gathering of this ingenuine group of elites causes a frenzy and stir amongst the masses as they appear, cross-dimensionally to have been reborn into stardom, mysteriously gaining controversy and mass fandom, to which no bounds can be seen as to the unstartlingly political incorrectness. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor. What's that? Shut up Don't ever look at me again. If i could take my eyes out, I would. No, need–I can do it for you. Haha, charade you are. You're a disaster. That's your excuse. Yeah, what's yours? Under the indifferential circumstances– “ooh–lala” I'm not as partial to making excuses as –as to what? Kissing ass? Only cute ones. Let it settle in, way down below deck Where the honor rollers are, The high rollers, far above you You wanna know how long the ride is? Wanna know how far you've come If i could throw you overboard, I'd trust you Love is not enough The seas are rough An open wound A bleeding heart How right you are The tea is strong, Like solid gold A needle's bond With no remorse, The tithes are gone Upright, Upright To end, to End That's right, I said Just end it I said “Better me than him” Another dinner with a friend A fear for framework, Or indifference again In this selection or Collection, Bears and end to End And End to end Upright And End to End Upright And End to end I dont know, if i want to know you I dont love like I want to love but I watched him raise the dead, Just so he had a friend I don't know if you've been told, but I don't love like I want to love, and I often raise the dead, Just so i can have a friend To play with It's darker in here, Oh, It's sufferable So I just want to know I live in a haunted house With a cat and a mouse But the old cat's gone, now the mouse tends to travel a lot I've nothing to haunt, (I'm a ghost in Toronto) A car show, A hollow heart, A starving artist, A scar; Over her bottom lip she runs her tongue So it goes: The stars on his face remind her of him So it goes: We all want Out of body Out of Mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Out of body Out of mind Out of soul Why (Why-Why) Would you leave me to wake (Why) In a terrible world Without you in it (A M ercedes emblem to hang around my neck, It's very simple) I tried to settle on subtle saffron I tried to love you, Then I moved on Do you ever wonder about philosophy? Do you ever wonder if anyone's watching you Secretly? Do you ever dream of it? (I'm just a ghost in a mansion) I haven't even had breakfast I've practically been dead half a century I sold the whole eiffel tower on craigslist What a bargain! You started it! I'm not arguing. I lost that bet, you know. Clearly. Is it that obvious? How do you lose a bet to Dillon Francis? He lost the bet but won the race. Whatever that means Okay. Who the fuck wrote this. [No show of hands] Nobody?! Thats our GOD. That's your God. yes. I thought Beyonce was your God. That's what I just SAID. We must infiltrate. But how. That which binds up through time The chemical, physical and biological nature of love An exploration of the meaning of meaning 1st, Second, and Third Movement Nice, I finally get to use a didgeridoo And bagpipes! And my trumpet! That sounds more like a french horn Or a Jimmy Fallon and The Impenetrable Ten Well, not entirely Impenetrable *stabs with sword* KRISTEN SHAAL Woah. MAYA RUDOLPH (or whoever) Dang. TINA FEY (or whoever) (At least it wasn't me) Right. –all i'm sayin. Wait, who got stabbed? Whoever. Not Jimmy Fallon. No. His untimely death is later. How much later? I don't– __ Meanwhile Dillon, if you spend $20 on Magic, I'm going to kill you. Haha, If i spend $20 on magic,it's very likely someone else is going to kill me. So it's settled. $20 on Magic, please. Fair. Ooh. Is this getting close to the part where Yup. SHH. WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GO BACKWARDS. No, it isn't. What. I Came into blank street Tryna see a [?!] all coffee No cream please Scream supacree But really you can't see me Can't take it to deep on w sweetie keyboard Feed me b Seymour Ain't tryna be gory Corey Hate to inform you I I'm stuck at the rock I'm stuck at the bottom Youre stuck at the top Fine! fuckin fuck Drew Barrymore, then! Work harder and more often Fuck love and whole foods cause they All Flashback music London … …. …… ………. Who else has seen this. Nobody, just us. We must burn this at once. I wholeheartedly agree. [Remarkably huge bonfire.] Did u make copies. ya . Ooh, that's cool. Very creative. Wow Nice. … … …. Have you seen this? No. Look at it. …ilikeit. Sensations of sadness Salacious arpeggios Arduous agressions Transitions– progressive Incendiary imagery Electric Synthesis Intentionally focused, configurative –Literally Skrillex. Ugh, that might be the last thing I ever write about him. Just shoot the nigga. Ooh, he's so cute. Keep him away from me. C'mon. Yo–I can't. Fine, i'll do it. *sighs indifferently* You could move a mountain; I could stop the tide In a flash; All at once It was a long, long drive I miss the coast (Or maybe, I just miss the sunshine) You could move a mountain Keep me from going insane (If I was inside, you'd) Keep me from going outside (if I was in, though, you'd) Keep me from going in, Under the circumstances I can't stand it, but I'm back from having summer standing under subtle waters Waiting for someone who Never shows up, so So Suffer no longer I wouldn't want to want you, if i wondered more about it At the surface, Or way under Nothing wants what nothing gets And noting gets nothing Anyways, so Here's for the abstract Stream of conscious Nothing moves mountains, but You could move mountains In a flash, and I turned the tide on I saw the tidal With my ghost And twelve apostles I've been waiting for Godot For so long I still think He might come Haha, what a charade We all are Huh I love you What was that? I've run off Huh I love you What was that? I've run off I finally fell out of love Look, I broke my own heart Sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I bite my lip, Fall into bed Maybe it's a hex Maybe it's a breakfast in bed kind of moment I've been waking up with someone, But going in the world alone, eh It's never run to remember where you've been After a binder You would think with so much in my system I'd have reached indifference, Well, didn't you I didn't yet, In fact, I'm still tying one one, With a friend At the moment Well perhaps, just perhaps, It might be time that I let you go then? Don't be so chauvinistic. Isn't this a barmitvah? Hasn't this been discussed at several other functions To no exact conclusions More Complications I could just FUCK, I COULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOREVER. He says it's a pluck, But i see it's percussive If I could give less of a fuck Then I probably coudn't. Woah How many wishes I've granted This festival season How many shifts that I've written through Sitting on busses and subways Looking suspicious as ever and probably smelling atrocious. INT. BLINK FITNESS. …I'm not using that shower. I thought I'd be more employable After sorting some, But it seems as though The more there is The more there isn't And the deeper it gets –the number of spirits I've risen Since getting here Is steady rising It's no surprise I've got more friends that died Than have lived here. It's been a very long year But I fucked it off quickly I'll never listen to Skrillex again If you paid me, But i'll play it In my mixes Depending Fuck it, There my brain went Down the drain again I've been training over a year And i'm still not Kayla fit I'm sick of it I've been waiting for Godot Since the year that I wrote it I've been wearing these bracelets for years Still haven't seen frozen, So i can't let it go yet Oh shit. This is all a distraction The underground is massive Another Michaelangelo Anglo Saxon anonymous I want an erroneous daughter Or Androgynous, Whatever These prostitutes have Graduate degrees with honors All I ever was, Was a disappointment I got a smile like Madonna's But none of the love at all I got a back end like Beyonce's But just some of the talent “What's an ass for If i'm cellibate, anyhow?” I asked God, She said, “Eat A Taco” I just hope that's not a euphemism for lesbianism Not that i'm intolerant, it's just that The older I get The straighter I am, And dammit He's sharp as a tack Straight as a whip I write books, And mind my own business It's impossible to whitewash all of us But I love rock and roll Look: It's a S i T uATiO NA L C0MEDy. So?! SO, THIS IS THE SITUATION: I don't wanna do this. My heart's so broken I could hold it on chopsticks You ever wonder what love is I've forgotten I'm having a hard time holding it all in I'm an artist I've got colorful emotional troubles Others love it Lil biiiiiitttzzz Man, fuck new york. I was apartment hunting and I got off the train in midtown– Technically the upper west side, but, you know, Midtown So i get off the train and I get ready to cross the street: I'm like Oh, Awesome–Trader Joes; Maybe this is the right neighborhood So i gotta use the bathroom anyway, so I head towards trader joes And I see this like– Box of birds. No, not a cage. It was like–a bird box I'm like “what. Birds.” Not just birds, though, Colorful birds– Like, straight up parakeets. I'm like, “What. the fuck” Then, before I can even look up– This dude–I just see his leg, though, He just– kicks the box of birds. “what.” Like, towards me, and i'm like “Okay, alright.” Now i got a box of birds at my feet on this busy ass corner in midtown manhattan Adjacent to Trader Joes And I look up at the guy, who kicked the box of birds, And he has this bowl So I look at the guy, And I look at the bowl, And what's in the bowl. IT'S MORE BIRDS. “OH NO!' I say. Yes, I say this, out loud, in Midtown manhattan “Oh no!” Cause it's not just a bowl of birds It's a bowl of PIGEONS. Just kickin it, in this dudes bowl. I'm like “Oh no.” And then i cross into trader joes. “Yep, right neighborhood.” Alright, here's the plan. where did you come from. nowhere. someone shoot that lady. DILLON FRANCIS I'm your worst nightmare. Dillon Francis is everyone's worst nightmare: He's a good looking white dude with too much money. He's literally like 8 Billion People's worst nightmare. GET OUT OF HERE, COLONIZER. Oh, man. DILLON FRANCIS is trapped in the hood. Try being famous over here! Motherfucker! More on that later. Look, I don't even like you like that! That's okay—-but I still want to suck your cock and that's not gonna change. *hangs head* I'm am not ashamed. I just might watch porn in the morning. Come on, 6:30, roll the fuck around. Wait, Which one is the Brown eyed dillon francis. The one with brown eyes. He's the trustworthy one. Well good luck with that. (The one that doesn't exist.) I didn't take the train today; I thought I was going to jump Thought i'd better play it safe Filled up my shopping cart, Got everything I wanted Everything and more Might not look my best but At least I'm not gone Come on, six o clock I just want to be alone She's got the gift of gab Grew up two blocks from here In the ghetto I've heard it all before But love, my heart's so broken And you turn me on some I'm gonna smoke your seamen* out of a nektar collector. That shit is like crack to me. Oh no. Who is this about. I'll give you one guess. I don't have any guesses. It's five past Christ I just opened my eyelids And rolled back my mind I tried to find you, after all, didn't I I might have designed you (On second thought I did) I might need time (if I believed in it) can't apologize for being human, but I wear your eyes all over the world I wear the memories of many girls And many nights Suffer the consequences Sure, I've been subway surfing, wondering Wait, where was I again? I was almost, Almost a person There's so much to learn from And too much to learn here I've been fighting off demons, Fighting the feeling of Falling in love again But I can't fall in Cause I never fell out Afterward, I went past it And on to the next one I might double back though– To find that I hadn't quite left in the– To find that I hadn't quite left in the first place To find that we haven't quite met yet At least not the right way It's probably a lesson I might miss the lecture I've got other plans today Fuck, so it is Skrillex. Not really exactly. On second thought, at first glance Better illusion, than hypnotism But if I can't be like that Why be anything at all If not a model Or artist Brought it up at the wrong time (You would want her) I wasn't one for improper introductions Or impromptu arrangements There, there It's just getting better So better not whine about it I wake up in a pile full of rocks; I guess it's better than a puddle of blood, Cause nobody loves me I've been alone, not lonely And never alone as long as I like Cause they all just surround me Now I know what it's like to be famous Without all the money and glamour– Turns out, that's the part that alluring I'd better find out what I did this for In the next downpour I'll be soaked to my torso exactly Aren't you proud of me (not really) I learned to cope by narrowing down all my options As time rolled on I got worse at making up stories As it turns out I didn't have to make them up at all They were happening to me So truly and honestly All my job was to “Mark My Words” Said The God Quite astonishing literally But I got bored of running and still not looking like Kayla Lauren I wouldn't bring it up, except The photographic evidence was damaging At least Dillon Francis has no audacity as such Then again, —I've never even been on an album cover. There you have it I've been lusting over Several other Talented masters and Handsome disasters But matter of fact It just started with One random – Well, now that I think about it, if I haven't believed in coincidences Since this, Random is just as likely as foreign a concept As such Immaculate conception, This contraption At first glance, a sonogram Play it back, Caught in the act again Cause in the act again I'll probably make a list of Weird shit I want to do with him When I think of it in public (That's usually where it happens) And if anything is random –It's that. ILLUMINATI DREAMS: PART III Dillon Francis broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. That was cool. We were best friends and got along really well. Went hiking in a beautiful park with crystal clear water and gorgeous ruins— Fell in the water and got my phone wet but it was in an otter box. I felt guilty about his girlfriend a feared they would get back together— But he was over her and super loyal to me — It all started when I tried to crawl into a giant bed to give Sonny a blowjob: Sonny was sleeping alone and Dillon was sleeping with his girlfriend— Dillon decided he wanted the blowjob; I refused because I would not let him cheat on his girlfriend; So he broke it off with her— Sonny never woke up There was no blowjob but Dillon and I ended up together. Sonny disappeared like he never existed anyway. Dillon and I were happy together and never fought. We were very in love. It was just a dream but still good to see Dillon. It felt warm and good. Lmfao wtf is wrong with you SOMETHING, obviously. It made a difffetent sound from further away, and better yet, an actual sound up close—I had been enamored enough walking by to move towards the lights after I was sure that my laundry was as close to complete as possible, but — A clock stops me in my tracks A Starbucks cup not in the trash lies in the ground I love the sparkles On Rockaway boulevard, Making it harder to ponder The underworld, unnerved of the undeserving The servicemen and servers of the surface Boughroughs further than Manhattan At the center lil biiiiiitzzzzs — Bro, I love the cops in New York All the cops in the east are bar none top notch I'm not kidding I went to a show in Miami once and I was walking this really long walk between one part of the venue and another I will never forget this like, line of cops that were like along the path and every single one of them was model hot I'm not joking I'm almost wish I was because I couldn't help myself from looking That's not even the worst part! the worst part was, they were looking back at me! All of em! I was like: “what the fuck is going on with these cops?! “ V.O. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going cry– So instead of running two miles on the treadmill I went three– But I still wanted to punch something. So I lifted some. I've been worried i'll plateau at the benchpress, the more I keep running… But I don't care. I'd rather weighless, and have a man, Than keep lifting like this, And be a man. Sometimes I'm worried I might be turning into one. Sometimes, depending on the way I dress, I'm mistaken for one– Or at least– Give off an air of general confusion. But I don't mind. Not that much. I'm no naturally designed to attract the kind of men I like. It might take a bit of maintenance, But i'm determined to persist I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have been born a beautiful woman. But maybe, if i'm lu

02/29/24: Episode 1032 of The Op-Ed Page podcast: Non-Performance and the Social Contract Please share, subscribe, rate and review! Non-Performance and the Social Contract Abena Imhotep: https://www.linkedin.com/in/abenaimhotep/ Her TEDx Talk, “Iowa Nice Interrupted”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAZ7M-aNsjI Conversationality podcast about the #ActYourWage trend: https://optionalitylife.substack.com/p/actyourwage Quick takes: Optionality: Jory's Optionality newsletter: Are We a Network for Fractional Workers? Not Exactly: https://optionalitylife.substack.com/p/so-are-we-a-network-of-fractional Current member tiers are here (early adopter rate ending soon): https://optionalitylife.substack.com/subscribe?coupon=60e53fb7 Home page: https://optionality.life Join us for curated connection, content, community, convening, and collaboration!! (Yes, I loves me some alliteration.) Plus: This Week-ish Newsletter latest issue: Sharing is Daring (on  being anti-stealth): https://elisacp.substack.com/p/sharing-is-daring Watching: The Crown final Season on Netflix Rustin (Oscar nominated film) on Netflix Reading:  The Future by Naomi Alderman Where to find me: My website: https://elisacp.com Join Optionality (Currently offering early adopter 50% off Premium rate): https://optionalitylife.substack.com Sign up for my newsletter, This Week-ish with Elisa Camahort Page: https://elisacp.substack.com Calendly: Schedule an intro session with me!: https://calendly.com/elisacp Road Map for Revolutionaries by me, Carolyn Gerin and Jamia Wilson: https://elisacp.com/books Social media handles (I'm on the other platforms too, but this is where I'm spending my time): Threads: @ElisaCP TikTok: @ElisaCP Insta: @ElisaCP LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/elisacamahortpage/ Don't forget to share, subscribe, rate and review!

Lab-made beef rice, still in the early stages of development, has received mixed reviews regarding its taste, with some key points to consider: Potential Upsides: Novel Flavor: Researchers describe it as having a pleasant and novel flavor with nutty and umami notes that might remind some of meat. Increased Protein: It boasts an 8% higher protein content than regular rice. Potential Downsides: Different Texture: The texture is described as firmer and more brittle compared to regular rice. Not Exactly "Beef": While containing cow cells, researchers emphasize that it doesn't replicate the exact taste of beef. Additional Considerations: It's currently in its initial research phase, so widespread availability and commercialization are still far off. Its pink color comes from components in the cell culture medium, not the cow cells themselves. As with any new food, it's ultimately a matter of individual preference. Whether you'd find it good depends on your taste, texture preferences, and openness to trying novel foods. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/moodkillers/message

Former Agent: The ATF Still Do Not Care About Straw Purchasers, Post Fact Check: Is Gun Violence the Leading Cause of Death for Children? Not Exactly, Colorado 'Carry Killer' Bill Officially Unveiled By Anti-Gun Lawmakers, California Ammunition Infringements Back in Force… for Now, SC Permitless Carry 3 Ring Circus

After 148 days, the writers' strike is over! So are we back to our normal programming? Not Exactly. It's important stuff so let's talk about it. If you like the show, don't forget to rate, review, and subscribe. Follow our bluesky @nationofanimation and our Instagram and Twitter @cartoonbookclub, and follow our hosts @thebrookesmith and @ryanwithcheese on Twitter&brookeerinsmith.comryangstevens.comBIG THANKS TO:Jacob Menke for our themeFollow them @menkemaster&Urvashi Lele for our art Learn more about Urvashi Lele's animations by visiting http://www.sirpeagreenstudios.com and follow their endeavors on instagram at @sirpeagreen and @maisonaudmi& a very special thanks of the week to:To all those brave folks who are still out on the picket line and those who continue to stand with the strike!The State of Animation is UNION STRONG!Where can I learn more about the strike?:https://www.sagaftrastrike.org/Real World Recs:Taylor Swift's chai cookie recipe Brooke: Spicy Mexican-style riced Cauliflower from Trader Joe's!Ryan: Video Game of The Year by Jordan MinorThis podcast is a part of Audio Mint. If you want to follow us, check us out on Instagram(@audiomintchi) or on Facebook, at Audio Mint. If you wanna support us even more, check out our Patreon by searching Audio Mint on the app or the website!

They talk the talk, but does Gen Z walk the walk? The hosts discuss the generation's complicated relationship with food and whether their values actually impact purchasing decisions. This episode also features an interview with Jorge Antonio Salles, the third-generation master distiller for iconic tequila brand El Tequileño. Show notes: 0:36: We're Bagged Out. Japan Via Montreal. Walk The Talk? Not Exactly. Mike Is Only Sleeping. – Surrounded by two dozen promotional canvas bags and coolers, the hosts assessed the value of such satchels and why brands might be better off sending samples instead of swag. Melissa returned from Montreal with a bushel of crunchy Japanese snacks while Mike tapped Google for some assistance with translation. The hosts also spoke about a recent study that revealed how societal pressures and social media affect Gen Z consumers and later praised brands of chocolate covered bananas, THC-infused drinks and breakfast biscuits. Also, Ray clarified that sleeping is not fasting. 37:35: Interview: Jorge Antonio “Tony” Salles, Master Distiller, El Tequileño – Tony Salles is the master distiller for iconic tequila brand El Tequileño. Described as “Mexico's Best Kept Secret,” El Tequileño distills 10 expressions of tequila along with a soon-to-be released Extra Añejo variety. In this interview, Salles spoke about how the company incorporates its heritage and emphasis on quality and craft into its communication strategy, how modern consumers fit into its innovation strategy and the impact of a limited-edition product on brand awareness. Brands in this episode:  El Tequileño, Pitaya Foods, Sailor Jerry, Madre Mezcal, Gigantic Candy, Belgian Boys, Teremana Tequila, Courvoisier, Tilia Wines, Wild Planet, Fresh Fizz, Revol Greens, Velvet Llama, Riff, Flow Water, Diana's Bananas, Jackson's Chips, TBD, Olyra

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

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 spend the day before, valentines say, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thiugh I had thought of another extension, which would l 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 mh time, but it would be if. Purse two to theee 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 addict f 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 it 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 algorithmicallu programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated Seinfeld, 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 to 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 heartfly 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—there's 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 while 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 or 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 metrormin 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 a Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I have 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 wayoh 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. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

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 spend the day before, valentines say, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thiugh I had thought of another extension, which would l 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 mh time, but it would be if. Purse two to theee 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 addict f 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 it 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 algorithmicallu programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated Seinfeld, 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 to 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 heartfly 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—there's 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 while 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 or 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 metrormin 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 a Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I have 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 wayoh 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. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

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 spend the day before, valentines say, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thiugh I had thought of another extension, which would l 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 mh time, but it would be if. Purse two to theee 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 addict f 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 it 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 algorithmicallu programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated Seinfeld, 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 to 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 heartfly 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—there's 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 while 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 or 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 metrormin 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 a Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I have 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 wayoh 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. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

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 spend the day before, valentines say, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thiugh I had thought of another extension, which would l 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 mh time, but it would be if. Purse two to theee 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 addict f 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 it 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 algorithmicallu programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated Seinfeld, 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 to 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 heartfly 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—there's 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 while 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 or 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 metrormin 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 a Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I have 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 wayoh 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. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Hour 3 of Thursday's A&G: Is it unfair to bring up climate change when discussing Hurricane Ian? Jack has to pay out of pocket to fix his Tesla. Chaos in the Press Room of The White House. Lizzo and James Madison swapping spit? Not Exactly. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Join Sarah as she shares her journey with Imposter Syndrome. Learn more about this unhealthy mindset as well as tips and strategies to overcome fraudulent feelings and self-doubt.   Register for your FREE RitterIM.com account   Mentioned in this episode:   Contact the Team at Ritter Insurance Marketing Imposter Syndrome Upside? Not Exactly... The Impostor Phenomenon The Positive Consequences Of Imposter Syndrome What Is Imposter Syndrome? You're Not an Imposter. You're Actually Pretty Amazing.   More episodes you'll like:   May 6, 2022 | The Friday Five Lessons Learned After 400 Episodes Pros and Cons of Having an Office Space Outside of Your Home Tips for Working on the Road Why Taking it Slow is Good for Business   Articles to Share with Your Clients:   Does Medicare Cover Obesity Screening and Behavioral Therapy? Embrace Your Inner Hemingway: Why Seniors Should Write Introducing the Medicareful Living Family Cookbook!   Ritter Insurance Marketing eBooks & Guides:   Agent Survival Kits: Beginners or Experts Developing an Agency – Your Guide to Getting Started Social Media Marketing for Insurance Agents   The latest from Ritter's Blog:   2022 State of the Senior Market: In Review Medicare Not Charging Late Enrollment Penalties Due to 2022 Social Security Delays Ritter & ReminderMedia Partnership Offers Agents New Marketing Solutions   Connect on social:   Facebook LinkedIn Twitter YouTube Instagram TikTok Sarah's LinkedIn Sarah's Instagram   Subscribe & Follow:   Apple Podcasts Google Podcasts Overcast Podbean Spotify Stitcher  

The year of gaming consolidation is upon us, with Sony snapping up Bungie. Not EXACTLY related, but the NYTimes has acquired Wordle. Did the CEO of Bolt's tweets lose him the top job at the company he founded? You can no longer roll through stop signs in your Tesla. And the best use of augmented reality I've heard in a while.Sponsors:Do.co/trhTodayInDigital.comLinks:Sony buying Bungie for $3.6 billion (GamesIndustry.biz)SONY'S BUNGIE ACQUISITION IS ALL ABOUT FORTNITE (The Verge)Microsoft Deal for Activision to Be Reviewed by FTC in U.S. (Bloomberg)Pinterest Adds Augmented Reality Feature for Home Decor (WSJ)Wordle has been bought by The New York Times, will ‘initially' remain free for everyone to play (The Verge)Following his fiery Twitter tirades, Bolt founder Ryan Breslow is no longer CEO — and he says it's his choice (TechCrunch)Tesla recall: ‘Full Self-Driving' software runs stop signs (AP)Pinterest Adds Augmented Reality Feature for Home Decor (WSJ)World Cup of Entrepreneurs On YouTubeSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, nearly 20 people per minute in the U.S. are physically abused by an intimate partner. Our guest, Betty Hafner is one of those who suffered. A teacher, counselor, and author, Betty will draw upon her beautiful but terrifying book, Not Exactly Love: A Memoir. She will give us the insider's view of the dark and complex trap of Domestic Violence. You will hear about bruises on her wedding day, necessary denial, frozen fear, cycles of love and abuse, the reason people can't leave, the shame and excuses, the split off professional life, the isolation, the echoes of historical roots, self-doubt, police, therapy and incremental steps of self-protection, self-esteem and a way out. Betty Hafner's memoir reads with the power and suspense of fiction; but it is painfully true. Whether you are male or female, have suffered from domestic or intimate partner violence or tried to help someone who has, you will want to hear this show.

According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, nearly 20 people per minute in the U.S. are physically abused by an intimate partner. Our guest, Betty Hafner is one of those who suffered. A teacher, counselor, and author, Betty will draw upon her beautiful but terrifying book, Not Exactly Love: A Memoir. She will give us the insider's view of the dark and complex trap of Domestic Violence. You will hear about bruises on her wedding day, necessary denial, frozen fear, cycles of love and abuse, the reason people can't leave, the shame and excuses, the split off professional life, the isolation, the echoes of historical roots, self-doubt, police, therapy and incremental steps of self-protection, self-esteem and a way out. Betty Hafner's memoir reads with the power and suspense of fiction; but it is painfully true. Whether you are male or female, have suffered from domestic or intimate partner violence or tried to help someone who has, you will want to hear this show.

Part 3 - Paine in the Morning - TUES - Jan. 4 -- Paine Stops Cursing ... Well, Not Exactly. This One is Jammed with INTEL. THEY ARE PLAYING YOU ... AGAIN Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Part 1 - Paine in the Morning - TUES - Jan. 4 -- Paine Stops Cursing ... Well, Not Exactly. This One is Jammed with INTEL. THEY ARE PLAYING YOU ... AGAIN Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Part 5 - Paine in the Morning - TUES - Jan. 4 -- Paine Stops Cursing ... Well, Not Exactly. This One is Jammed with INTEL. THEY ARE PLAYING YOU ... AGAIN Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Part 6 - Paine in the Morning - TUES - Jan. 4 -- Paine Stops Cursing ... Well, Not Exactly. This One is Jammed with INTEL. THEY ARE PLAYING YOU ... AGAIN Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Part 2 - Paine in the Morning - TUES - Jan. 4 -- Paine Stops Cursing ... Well, Not Exactly. This One is Jammed with INTEL. THEY ARE PLAYING YOU ... AGAIN Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Part 4 - Paine in the Morning - TUES - Jan. 4 -- Paine Stops Cursing ... Well, Not Exactly. This One is Jammed with INTEL. THEY ARE PLAYING YOU ... AGAIN Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Kris Millegan and Roger Phelps discuss “Not Exactly the CIA: A Revised History of Modern American Disasters,” Roger's book about a string of disasters, such as Gander, Lockerbie, Oklahoma City, and 9/11, the nefarious characters around them, and their effect: our acceptance of reactionary political measures in the name of “national security.” #notexactlythecia #americandisasters #rogerphelps #gandercrash #oklahomacitybombing #lockerbiecrash #nineeleven