Podcasts about Owsla

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 5, 2024 5:42

XXX. ft Kendrick Lamar (Uptown A Remix) [Bootleg] Uptown A The Complex Collective Original Track: XXX. (DAMN, Kendrick Lamar, 2017) “The Rescue” This hearty soup uses tumeric, garlic, and beetroot to help boost the immune system and ward off oncoming attacks. This is not a simple soup to throw together once you've already come down with a full-on cold or flu, as you may not have the energy to gather the ingredients and for preparation, however— this soup is more meant for helping to boost the immune system in the beginning stages of coming down with a seasonal bug, or as a preventative booster. This recipe's complex blend of vitamins and minerals from greens and root vegetables keeps its ingredients' wholesome nutritional value high by first oven roasting the vegetables in a medley before adding them to the pot rather than boiling them; the prep time for this recipe is about 2 hours, with an additional 1-2 hours of cook time to simmer for flavor and for the raw chickpeas to reach the ideal texture before serving— the blend of herbs and root vegetables will add a layer of immunity and protection against any oncoming disruption to your normal level of health, and is hearty enough to be served alone, or with a side dish of salad or even a half sandwich, if you're feeling up to it. You will need: ½ medium size had of cauliflower ½ medium to large yellow onion ½ red onion of the same size ½ white onion, per reference 1 whole celery heart One fresh turmeric root 1-3 beets worth of beet root and leafy greens— you will only use the root for this recipe and can save the beets for later 1 stalk baby boo choy 3-4 medium sized carrots ¼ green bell pepper ⅓ pasilla or Anaheim pepper, per preference (one is milder than the other, but for heavy sinus congestion I suggest the Pasilla pepper, which is a bit spicier and will decongest easily, especially when including some of the seeds into the medley) ⅓ red bell pepper ⅓ yellow bell pepper ⅓ orange bell pepper ½ can stewed tomatoes with onion ½ can stewed tomatoes with garlic (This is for broth flavor) One whole vine ripened tomato 5-8 cloves of garlic (per preference) About 3 tablespoons of fresh ginger root (a thumb tip's worth) 3 cups chickpeas, pre rinsed and soaked overnight ½ cup finely chopped fresh dill ½ cup finely chopped fresh cilantro ¼ cup finely chopped freshoregano ½ lime ½ lemon Crushed red pepper Sea salt Thyme Black pepper Part II Spirit says music was first, then words, and after actions—and then all of time is just acting out the stories that were told in the beginning as art and… Something tells me Something's not all the way right with my head I'm Lost in my mind, I'm All the way here, But I'm still Somewhere off a bit Velvet, the skin, I'm just as sick in my head as I ever, Recovered sex addict, and by definition of nutrition —this handsome nigga smells like red licorice. (It's actually cherry ludens with pectin.) Zeroing in and away, heroing hard For your heroine, Heroin veins, Pigs on the wing, Singing your song Hearing your cry out Fly out my miles, my son Come into my arms, mine oath The love, some trouble Heavy was her heart, Lied to cover Still shattered, Ravine ions, cosmos farm And Wanda's black eye Timmy's wishes and SpongeBob's shallow grave, Oh, how high I got That Arnold's lost love Was actually Strangely enough Also his narcissist, Probably also practicing witchcraft And exorcisms of him. Scissorman, Scissorman— Get a load of this one; Frog and toad, a couple laughs Behind the masks, For this world. Would you honor? Give your blessing, butter Different wages paying, Listen, shallow author: You would write but then not follow up About the actors? The actors! The actors have had it. I'm Just As Badly Damaged As I ever was And listen, Awesome told me Your story I chuckled All the way Up until The literal punchline Now, Go home; Go hike Runyon. For a few hours, we can pretend. That old haunts Don't boil up They always have, of course But you know Nothing quite as pungent as What's become of yours [I love my son.] There it is again, As if something had called her, There, more words But less of them than the tongue could offer Swear you, listener, Past this message sits the wilted thumbs of wilderness, and weary travelers, Song pigeons and mismatched audience appearances For pleasantries And of course, Dessert trays. Cause I wear— —We all know. If anything happens these days, It's because I'm a comic. (At some point) Sunglasses before the sun's up; Eat candies before it all melts Warm something as download comes To fight or fold, To win or die To live or lose Whatever then First time flying And I've got My mind blinding me out Deciding for once That I'm not the whole world Just to have the experience If being surrounded by others In some way. The runway lights up all blue, and I'm in love with you. The subway cars opposite collide, I wish I died already. I should give some time between myself and my writing, I think. I really shouldn't end things the way I'm thinking of ending things— But I'm thinking of ending things. How selfish of me. First time flying Sunglasses before the sun comes up Halls on my tongue And vitamins in my pocket, I shuffle over and over in my mind, The millions of dollars And all that I go through Just to skip post, And go home to no one. But—hello there No one's looking over your shoulder quite so hard as This poster is, So aware of what's there, and near you You've begun to fear it Well, then, Hands in my pocket and down Dawn to dusk, Shaking my head, Drunkenly, but stone sober Really no one told me about the poetry, But a whole world opened, Inside of your notebook— Which I stand holding. Pleasentries, sick dissent, Indecent exposure. And body odor this early in the morning; Gotta love country folk Supposedly no judgements, but as I grow I older, The slower toad I become, and discover my bird eye— Here's to hopes The Hellicopter is all I know From here to Hell and back Westward bound, The Sun rise behind us Sunglasses and no sun yet My eyes reminders of times I remember Sure you did, sir I been there Suffered the whole coast And I'm still not sure You realize you're face down, ass up at an international airport right now. They say this airport is known for its art installations. You don't say. Grandiose to escape the algorithm, Tapped in with the captains hats Fit six of my guieapigs in the business 1 transsexual, And 6 women 3 biracial non-bianaries Some accused extra terrestrials You left me home, but — Nobody washes the whites without me. It's OWSLA again. [The Festival Project ™] It's mid week in midtown I fell asleep at a business meeting, Thinking in sequences, Drinking in increments, Sweet, sweet music, Death and television Television Celebritism, star power And no wonder Early October vacations From power fortunes tied to us We want Redbones, Resonated chambers, Thankless sacraments of disaster Are you archived? Damaged and the flatline Comes at such a heavy decibel Your arms grow numb and Start to stiffen; No wonder you're not paranoid Inside of our religion The Eye See i, Excuse me miss— Did I miss it ? Plea, I Give thanks, Again for —this is our tradition Me, I, Seek I —-meaning to make sense of it but, The might, She died, I guess The center of my kitchen Distressed from attention deficit disorder Sure, Marsh —Whatever doctor . He was just the type I like Milky silky white Sunglasses Slicked back hair Thick round thighs High fashion—( l) Sun baked Pose to take a selfie, right? Just the type I like; Milky silky white There's the girl that'll do anything for ya But she's no body With nobody No good, I In fact So ugly l you could choke on just the thought of her Even with beer goggles on But she'll do anything you want And like it—and it doesn't cost She'll fall in love with you (For not even a single dollar.) [The Festival Project ™] Now that we — {Enter The Multiverse} Ahem. Part III Day trip Take a nap Change the map. Pet the cat Let the dog out Run a lap Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat Broh what up with these Dillon Francis clones tho. How do you know they're clones? They can't all be multi dimentionals. They could! You never know; they really could. I run these robots Into dark corners Just to honor me They come scurrying and ugly to annoy and ponder upon me, all the while praying l, my mind on Don't mind those, they're broke bots I haven't l l stopped my work to finish Work on [The Festival Project ™] I'm sure by now you've noticed The only people in Champion sportswear and Jansport backpacks Are ugly, slow, And weak L E G E N D S (I have noticed.) If attention deficit is forsure your destination I'm you're designated courier, or carrier pigeon This isn't ingidgenous reparations or explicit subliminal messages, But if it is, this is suggestive your direction is correct and attentive Listen to this shit: Case dismissed; Next time I'll fly direct Hit my line if your eyes are dilated I'm miles high, So if it rejects, Just leave a message (Eject!) All of a sudden, I'm somewhere else (With him) He pulls on the rings On the back of my —what was I wearing again? I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't listen) I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't—) I should have stayed home for awhile Cause before hand, and I'm wild Random foreplay, Orgasm, Desire you, You're right, I don't listen. All of a sudden, I'm gone with you. Those women in Santa Monica, All perfect and in hoards and by the handfuls The type celebrities get Celebrities need, Celebrities want— A shrill reminder Or what I am, And can often lose focus, Drawing back on icons, Sifting through the skin I feel, Entrapped by circumstance And perhaps, even Some terrible curse, or A shield of protection. —the deathly hollows. It almost felt as if I'd never write again, but here I was Nearer somehow to a strange fame, The end of famine And feast of none— Doubling back upon Something I had recorded In this experience, Alone and awakened, Moving in automatic, Chaos and charismatic, felt, but never intertwined In the awesome circumstance Of wanting, no— Needing to be loved, And never having been; Needing to be touched, and never having felt The grip of sorts, The higher bar taste of something I had become famished, The sense of a calling so sacred, It beconed to my sea, The only one, A diamond in starry skies A night of dawn, But dark, the thought The ever present one, Never loved, And shallow kind Shallow breath, And putrid thoughts, Reckoning the wilted flower, The springing seed, The calling of another and yet, Here I was, Tolerance, At her mercy— Fearing none but knowing, By the handfuls they come, And drawn like magnets Into my being, A focus, Nonesuch art none otherwise known as My hell The bodies of women Perfect and priveleged, Sunbathed and worthy Of everything I wanted and needed Without working at all. I wondered harder, fasting. Soft lips upon his Adam's Apple, I drift away in his chest, Dreft, the smell of michielf managed, Then, the music of songs loved And garnished with sprouts of June In the coming of spring, Does form another, Again, my love I call for mercy The pain of yours needing born And my heart estranged Mercy Her eyes were darkened circles And body brittle; As I admired her courtesy, charm And delicate stature, Arose to connect this, A tune— So sung to tell a story Of Rocky Racoon Irish spring to lather his back, In bar form; His burgundy Mercedes Benz has had parked in my garage, And I, not able to trust his drunken judgements, Captured his keys, as my mother and I Had worried for him, Dissappeared again into the night, and yet— At least the keys and the car Were safe with me, at home As was his, Whenever he wished to return My strange and far love Nearly since almost nothing Screen doors and Fischer Price Office calls and casting agents, Honey bees and biopics Telephoto lenses and Semi autobiographical pornography Marriages and suits to match A name for Vegas wedded lie, A love bloomed from birth, Cherished insights in the water Reservations and yamakas, Simple and sacred, The undone village, The thought of nothing but one Until another does pull the string To which I had once known as harness, But had since cut, Only watching to strive, Seeing the dance one makes for one to distance, But only dangling, seeing not that I Had come free and was wary of All love, by now. All men, indeed. [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

XXX. (Uptown A Remix)

[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 5, 2024 5:42

XXX. ft Kendrick Lamar (Uptown A Remix) [Bootleg] Uptown A The Complex Collective Original Track: XXX. (DAMN, Kendrick Lamar, 2017) “The Rescue” This hearty soup uses tumeric, garlic, and beetroot to help boost the immune system and ward off oncoming attacks. This is not a simple soup to throw together once you've already come down with a full-on cold or flu, as you may not have the energy to gather the ingredients and for preparation, however— this soup is more meant for helping to boost the immune system in the beginning stages of coming down with a seasonal bug, or as a preventative booster. This recipe's complex blend of vitamins and minerals from greens and root vegetables keeps its ingredients' wholesome nutritional value high by first oven roasting the vegetables in a medley before adding them to the pot rather than boiling them; the prep time for this recipe is about 2 hours, with an additional 1-2 hours of cook time to simmer for flavor and for the raw chickpeas to reach the ideal texture before serving— the blend of herbs and root vegetables will add a layer of immunity and protection against any oncoming disruption to your normal level of health, and is hearty enough to be served alone, or with a side dish of salad or even a half sandwich, if you're feeling up to it. You will need: ½ medium size had of cauliflower ½ medium to large yellow onion ½ red onion of the same size ½ white onion, per reference 1 whole celery heart One fresh turmeric root 1-3 beets worth of beet root and leafy greens— you will only use the root for this recipe and can save the beets for later 1 stalk baby boo choy 3-4 medium sized carrots ¼ green bell pepper ⅓ pasilla or Anaheim pepper, per preference (one is milder than the other, but for heavy sinus congestion I suggest the Pasilla pepper, which is a bit spicier and will decongest easily, especially when including some of the seeds into the medley) ⅓ red bell pepper ⅓ yellow bell pepper ⅓ orange bell pepper ½ can stewed tomatoes with onion ½ can stewed tomatoes with garlic (This is for broth flavor) One whole vine ripened tomato 5-8 cloves of garlic (per preference) About 3 tablespoons of fresh ginger root (a thumb tip's worth) 3 cups chickpeas, pre rinsed and soaked overnight ½ cup finely chopped fresh dill ½ cup finely chopped fresh cilantro ¼ cup finely chopped freshoregano ½ lime ½ lemon Crushed red pepper Sea salt Thyme Black pepper Part II Spirit says music was first, then words, and after actions—and then all of time is just acting out the stories that were told in the beginning as art and… Something tells me Something's not all the way right with my head I'm Lost in my mind, I'm All the way here, But I'm still Somewhere off a bit Velvet, the skin, I'm just as sick in my head as I ever, Recovered sex addict, and by definition of nutrition —this handsome nigga smells like red licorice. (It's actually cherry ludens with pectin.) Zeroing in and away, heroing hard For your heroine, Heroin veins, Pigs on the wing, Singing your song Hearing your cry out Fly out my miles, my son Come into my arms, mine oath The love, some trouble Heavy was her heart, Lied to cover Still shattered, Ravine ions, cosmos farm And Wanda's black eye Timmy's wishes and SpongeBob's shallow grave, Oh, how high I got That Arnold's lost love Was actually Strangely enough Also his narcissist, Probably also practicing witchcraft And exorcisms of him. Scissorman, Scissorman— Get a load of this one; Frog and toad, a couple laughs Behind the masks, For this world. Would you honor? Give your blessing, butter Different wages paying, Listen, shallow author: You would write but then not follow up About the actors? The actors! The actors have had it. I'm Just As Badly Damaged As I ever was And listen, Awesome told me Your story I chuckled All the way Up until The literal punchline Now, Go home; Go hike Runyon. For a few hours, we can pretend. That old haunts Don't boil up They always have, of course But you know Nothing quite as pungent as What's become of yours [I love my son.] There it is again, As if something had called her, There, more words But less of them than the tongue could offer Swear you, listener, Past this message sits the wilted thumbs of wilderness, and weary travelers, Song pigeons and mismatched audience appearances For pleasantries And of course, Dessert trays. Cause I wear— —We all know. If anything happens these days, It's because I'm a comic. (At some point) Sunglasses before the sun's up; Eat candies before it all melts Warm something as download comes To fight or fold, To win or die To live or lose Whatever then First time flying And I've got My mind blinding me out Deciding for once That I'm not the whole world Just to have the experience If being surrounded by others In some way. The runway lights up all blue, and I'm in love with you. The subway cars opposite collide, I wish I died already. I should give some time between myself and my writing, I think. I really shouldn't end things the way I'm thinking of ending things— But I'm thinking of ending things. How selfish of me. First time flying Sunglasses before the sun comes up Halls on my tongue And vitamins in my pocket, I shuffle over and over in my mind, The millions of dollars And all that I go through Just to skip post, And go home to no one. But—hello there No one's looking over your shoulder quite so hard as This poster is, So aware of what's there, and near you You've begun to fear it Well, then, Hands in my pocket and down Dawn to dusk, Shaking my head, Drunkenly, but stone sober Really no one told me about the poetry, But a whole world opened, Inside of your notebook— Which I stand holding. Pleasentries, sick dissent, Indecent exposure. And body odor this early in the morning; Gotta love country folk Supposedly no judgements, but as I grow I older, The slower toad I become, and discover my bird eye— Here's to hopes The Hellicopter is all I know From here to Hell and back Westward bound, The Sun rise behind us Sunglasses and no sun yet My eyes reminders of times I remember Sure you did, sir I been there Suffered the whole coast And I'm still not sure You realize you're face down, ass up at an international airport right now. They say this airport is known for its art installations. You don't say. Grandiose to escape the algorithm, Tapped in with the captains hats Fit six of my guieapigs in the business 1 transsexual, And 6 women 3 biracial non-bianaries Some accused extra terrestrials You left me home, but — Nobody washes the whites without me. It's OWSLA again. [The Festival Project ™] It's mid week in midtown I fell asleep at a business meeting, Thinking in sequences, Drinking in increments, Sweet, sweet music, Death and television Television Celebritism, star power And no wonder Early October vacations From power fortunes tied to us We want Redbones, Resonated chambers, Thankless sacraments of disaster Are you archived? Damaged and the flatline Comes at such a heavy decibel Your arms grow numb and Start to stiffen; No wonder you're not paranoid Inside of our religion The Eye See i, Excuse me miss— Did I miss it ? Plea, I Give thanks, Again for —this is our tradition Me, I, Seek I —-meaning to make sense of it but, The might, She died, I guess The center of my kitchen Distressed from attention deficit disorder Sure, Marsh —Whatever doctor . He was just the type I like Milky silky white Sunglasses Slicked back hair Thick round thighs High fashion—( l) Sun baked Pose to take a selfie, right? Just the type I like; Milky silky white There's the girl that'll do anything for ya But she's no body With nobody No good, I In fact So ugly l you could choke on just the thought of her Even with beer goggles on But she'll do anything you want And like it—and it doesn't cost She'll fall in love with you (For not even a single dollar.) [The Festival Project ™] Now that we — {Enter The Multiverse} Ahem. Part III Day trip Take a nap Change the map. Pet the cat Let the dog out Run a lap Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat Broh what up with these Dillon Francis clones tho. How do you know they're clones? They can't all be multi dimentionals. They could! You never know; they really could. I run these robots Into dark corners Just to honor me They come scurrying and ugly to annoy and ponder upon me, all the while praying l, my mind on Don't mind those, they're broke bots I haven't l l stopped my work to finish Work on [The Festival Project ™] I'm sure by now you've noticed The only people in Champion sportswear and Jansport backpacks Are ugly, slow, And weak L E G E N D S (I have noticed.) If attention deficit is forsure your destination I'm you're designated courier, or carrier pigeon This isn't ingidgenous reparations or explicit subliminal messages, But if it is, this is suggestive your direction is correct and attentive Listen to this shit: Case dismissed; Next time I'll fly direct Hit my line if your eyes are dilated I'm miles high, So if it rejects, Just leave a message (Eject!) All of a sudden, I'm somewhere else (With him) He pulls on the rings On the back of my —what was I wearing again? I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't listen) I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't—) I should have stayed home for awhile Cause before hand, and I'm wild Random foreplay, Orgasm, Desire you, You're right, I don't listen. All of a sudden, I'm gone with you. Those women in Santa Monica, All perfect and in hoards and by the handfuls The type celebrities get Celebrities need, Celebrities want— A shrill reminder Or what I am, And can often lose focus, Drawing back on icons, Sifting through the skin I feel, Entrapped by circumstance And perhaps, even Some terrible curse, or A shield of protection. —the deathly hollows. It almost felt as if I'd never write again, but here I was Nearer somehow to a strange fame, The end of famine And feast of none— Doubling back upon Something I had recorded In this experience, Alone and awakened, Moving in automatic, Chaos and charismatic, felt, but never intertwined In the awesome circumstance Of wanting, no— Needing to be loved, And never having been; Needing to be touched, and never having felt The grip of sorts, The higher bar taste of something I had become famished, The sense of a calling so sacred, It beconed to my sea, The only one, A diamond in starry skies A night of dawn, But dark, the thought The ever present one, Never loved, And shallow kind Shallow breath, And putrid thoughts, Reckoning the wilted flower, The springing seed, The calling of another and yet, Here I was, Tolerance, At her mercy— Fearing none but knowing, By the handfuls they come, And drawn like magnets Into my being, A focus, Nonesuch art none otherwise known as My hell The bodies of women Perfect and priveleged, Sunbathed and worthy Of everything I wanted and needed Without working at all. I wondered harder, fasting. Soft lips upon his Adam's Apple, I drift away in his chest, Dreft, the smell of michielf managed, Then, the music of songs loved And garnished with sprouts of June In the coming of spring, Does form another, Again, my love I call for mercy The pain of yours needing born And my heart estranged Mercy Her eyes were darkened circles And body brittle; As I admired her courtesy, charm And delicate stature, Arose to connect this, A tune— So sung to tell a story Of Rocky Racoon Irish spring to lather his back, In bar form; His burgundy Mercedes Benz has had parked in my garage, And I, not able to trust his drunken judgements, Captured his keys, as my mother and I Had worried for him, Dissappeared again into the night, and yet— At least the keys and the car Were safe with me, at home As was his, Whenever he wished to return My strange and far love Nearly since almost nothing Screen doors and Fischer Price Office calls and casting agents, Honey bees and biopics Telephoto lenses and Semi autobiographical pornography Marriages and suits to match A name for Vegas wedded lie, A love bloomed from birth, Cherished insights in the water Reservations and yamakas, Simple and sacred, The undone village, The thought of nothing but one Until another does pull the string To which I had once known as harness, But had since cut, Only watching to strive, Seeing the dance one makes for one to distance, But only dangling, seeing not that I Had come free and was wary of All love, by now. All men, indeed. [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

XXX. (Uptown A Remix)

Gerald’s World.

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 5, 2024 5:42

XXX. ft Kendrick Lamar (Uptown A Remix) [Bootleg] Uptown A The Complex Collective Original Track: XXX. (DAMN, Kendrick Lamar, 2017) “The Rescue” This hearty soup uses tumeric, garlic, and beetroot to help boost the immune system and ward off oncoming attacks. This is not a simple soup to throw together once you've already come down with a full-on cold or flu, as you may not have the energy to gather the ingredients and for preparation, however— this soup is more meant for helping to boost the immune system in the beginning stages of coming down with a seasonal bug, or as a preventative booster. This recipe's complex blend of vitamins and minerals from greens and root vegetables keeps its ingredients' wholesome nutritional value high by first oven roasting the vegetables in a medley before adding them to the pot rather than boiling them; the prep time for this recipe is about 2 hours, with an additional 1-2 hours of cook time to simmer for flavor and for the raw chickpeas to reach the ideal texture before serving— the blend of herbs and root vegetables will add a layer of immunity and protection against any oncoming disruption to your normal level of health, and is hearty enough to be served alone, or with a side dish of salad or even a half sandwich, if you're feeling up to it. You will need: ½ medium size had of cauliflower ½ medium to large yellow onion ½ red onion of the same size ½ white onion, per reference 1 whole celery heart One fresh turmeric root 1-3 beets worth of beet root and leafy greens— you will only use the root for this recipe and can save the beets for later 1 stalk baby boo choy 3-4 medium sized carrots ¼ green bell pepper ⅓ pasilla or Anaheim pepper, per preference (one is milder than the other, but for heavy sinus congestion I suggest the Pasilla pepper, which is a bit spicier and will decongest easily, especially when including some of the seeds into the medley) ⅓ red bell pepper ⅓ yellow bell pepper ⅓ orange bell pepper ½ can stewed tomatoes with onion ½ can stewed tomatoes with garlic (This is for broth flavor) One whole vine ripened tomato 5-8 cloves of garlic (per preference) About 3 tablespoons of fresh ginger root (a thumb tip's worth) 3 cups chickpeas, pre rinsed and soaked overnight ½ cup finely chopped fresh dill ½ cup finely chopped fresh cilantro ¼ cup finely chopped freshoregano ½ lime ½ lemon Crushed red pepper Sea salt Thyme Black pepper Part II Spirit says music was first, then words, and after actions—and then all of time is just acting out the stories that were told in the beginning as art and… Something tells me Something's not all the way right with my head I'm Lost in my mind, I'm All the way here, But I'm still Somewhere off a bit Velvet, the skin, I'm just as sick in my head as I ever, Recovered sex addict, and by definition of nutrition —this handsome nigga smells like red licorice. (It's actually cherry ludens with pectin.) Zeroing in and away, heroing hard For your heroine, Heroin veins, Pigs on the wing, Singing your song Hearing your cry out Fly out my miles, my son Come into my arms, mine oath The love, some trouble Heavy was her heart, Lied to cover Still shattered, Ravine ions, cosmos farm And Wanda's black eye Timmy's wishes and SpongeBob's shallow grave, Oh, how high I got That Arnold's lost love Was actually Strangely enough Also his narcissist, Probably also practicing witchcraft And exorcisms of him. Scissorman, Scissorman— Get a load of this one; Frog and toad, a couple laughs Behind the masks, For this world. Would you honor? Give your blessing, butter Different wages paying, Listen, shallow author: You would write but then not follow up About the actors? The actors! The actors have had it. I'm Just As Badly Damaged As I ever was And listen, Awesome told me Your story I chuckled All the way Up until The literal punchline Now, Go home; Go hike Runyon. For a few hours, we can pretend. That old haunts Don't boil up They always have, of course But you know Nothing quite as pungent as What's become of yours [I love my son.] There it is again, As if something had called her, There, more words But less of them than the tongue could offer Swear you, listener, Past this message sits the wilted thumbs of wilderness, and weary travelers, Song pigeons and mismatched audience appearances For pleasantries And of course, Dessert trays. Cause I wear— —We all know. If anything happens these days, It's because I'm a comic. (At some point) Sunglasses before the sun's up; Eat candies before it all melts Warm something as download comes To fight or fold, To win or die To live or lose Whatever then First time flying And I've got My mind blinding me out Deciding for once That I'm not the whole world Just to have the experience If being surrounded by others In some way. The runway lights up all blue, and I'm in love with you. The subway cars opposite collide, I wish I died already. I should give some time between myself and my writing, I think. I really shouldn't end things the way I'm thinking of ending things— But I'm thinking of ending things. How selfish of me. First time flying Sunglasses before the sun comes up Halls on my tongue And vitamins in my pocket, I shuffle over and over in my mind, The millions of dollars And all that I go through Just to skip post, And go home to no one. But—hello there No one's looking over your shoulder quite so hard as This poster is, So aware of what's there, and near you You've begun to fear it Well, then, Hands in my pocket and down Dawn to dusk, Shaking my head, Drunkenly, but stone sober Really no one told me about the poetry, But a whole world opened, Inside of your notebook— Which I stand holding. Pleasentries, sick dissent, Indecent exposure. And body odor this early in the morning; Gotta love country folk Supposedly no judgements, but as I grow I older, The slower toad I become, and discover my bird eye— Here's to hopes The Hellicopter is all I know From here to Hell and back Westward bound, The Sun rise behind us Sunglasses and no sun yet My eyes reminders of times I remember Sure you did, sir I been there Suffered the whole coast And I'm still not sure You realize you're face down, ass up at an international airport right now. They say this airport is known for its art installations. You don't say. Grandiose to escape the algorithm, Tapped in with the captains hats Fit six of my guieapigs in the business 1 transsexual, And 6 women 3 biracial non-bianaries Some accused extra terrestrials You left me home, but — Nobody washes the whites without me. It's OWSLA again. [The Festival Project ™] It's mid week in midtown I fell asleep at a business meeting, Thinking in sequences, Drinking in increments, Sweet, sweet music, Death and television Television Celebritism, star power And no wonder Early October vacations From power fortunes tied to us We want Redbones, Resonated chambers, Thankless sacraments of disaster Are you archived? Damaged and the flatline Comes at such a heavy decibel Your arms grow numb and Start to stiffen; No wonder you're not paranoid Inside of our religion The Eye See i, Excuse me miss— Did I miss it ? Plea, I Give thanks, Again for —this is our tradition Me, I, Seek I —-meaning to make sense of it but, The might, She died, I guess The center of my kitchen Distressed from attention deficit disorder Sure, Marsh —Whatever doctor . He was just the type I like Milky silky white Sunglasses Slicked back hair Thick round thighs High fashion—( l) Sun baked Pose to take a selfie, right? Just the type I like; Milky silky white There's the girl that'll do anything for ya But she's no body With nobody No good, I In fact So ugly l you could choke on just the thought of her Even with beer goggles on But she'll do anything you want And like it—and it doesn't cost She'll fall in love with you (For not even a single dollar.) [The Festival Project ™] Now that we — {Enter The Multiverse} Ahem. Part III Day trip Take a nap Change the map. Pet the cat Let the dog out Run a lap Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat Broh what up with these Dillon Francis clones tho. How do you know they're clones? They can't all be multi dimentionals. They could! You never know; they really could. I run these robots Into dark corners Just to honor me They come scurrying and ugly to annoy and ponder upon me, all the while praying l, my mind on Don't mind those, they're broke bots I haven't l l stopped my work to finish Work on [The Festival Project ™] I'm sure by now you've noticed The only people in Champion sportswear and Jansport backpacks Are ugly, slow, And weak L E G E N D S (I have noticed.) If attention deficit is forsure your destination I'm you're designated courier, or carrier pigeon This isn't ingidgenous reparations or explicit subliminal messages, But if it is, this is suggestive your direction is correct and attentive Listen to this shit: Case dismissed; Next time I'll fly direct Hit my line if your eyes are dilated I'm miles high, So if it rejects, Just leave a message (Eject!) All of a sudden, I'm somewhere else (With him) He pulls on the rings On the back of my —what was I wearing again? I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't listen) I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't—) I should have stayed home for awhile Cause before hand, and I'm wild Random foreplay, Orgasm, Desire you, You're right, I don't listen. All of a sudden, I'm gone with you. Those women in Santa Monica, All perfect and in hoards and by the handfuls The type celebrities get Celebrities need, Celebrities want— A shrill reminder Or what I am, And can often lose focus, Drawing back on icons, Sifting through the skin I feel, Entrapped by circumstance And perhaps, even Some terrible curse, or A shield of protection. —the deathly hollows. It almost felt as if I'd never write again, but here I was Nearer somehow to a strange fame, The end of famine And feast of none— Doubling back upon Something I had recorded In this experience, Alone and awakened, Moving in automatic, Chaos and charismatic, felt, but never intertwined In the awesome circumstance Of wanting, no— Needing to be loved, And never having been; Needing to be touched, and never having felt The grip of sorts, The higher bar taste of something I had become famished, The sense of a calling so sacred, It beconed to my sea, The only one, A diamond in starry skies A night of dawn, But dark, the thought The ever present one, Never loved, And shallow kind Shallow breath, And putrid thoughts, Reckoning the wilted flower, The springing seed, The calling of another and yet, Here I was, Tolerance, At her mercy— Fearing none but knowing, By the handfuls they come, And drawn like magnets Into my being, A focus, Nonesuch art none otherwise known as My hell The bodies of women Perfect and priveleged, Sunbathed and worthy Of everything I wanted and needed Without working at all. I wondered harder, fasting. Soft lips upon his Adam's Apple, I drift away in his chest, Dreft, the smell of michielf managed, Then, the music of songs loved And garnished with sprouts of June In the coming of spring, Does form another, Again, my love I call for mercy The pain of yours needing born And my heart estranged Mercy Her eyes were darkened circles And body brittle; As I admired her courtesy, charm And delicate stature, Arose to connect this, A tune— So sung to tell a story Of Rocky Racoon Irish spring to lather his back, In bar form; His burgundy Mercedes Benz has had parked in my garage, And I, not able to trust his drunken judgements, Captured his keys, as my mother and I Had worried for him, Dissappeared again into the night, and yet— At least the keys and the car Were safe with me, at home As was his, Whenever he wished to return My strange and far love Nearly since almost nothing Screen doors and Fischer Price Office calls and casting agents, Honey bees and biopics Telephoto lenses and Semi autobiographical pornography Marriages and suits to match A name for Vegas wedded lie, A love bloomed from birth, Cherished insights in the water Reservations and yamakas, Simple and sacred, The undone village, The thought of nothing but one Until another does pull the string To which I had once known as harness, But had since cut, Only watching to strive, Seeing the dance one makes for one to distance, But only dangling, seeing not that I Had come free and was wary of All love, by now. All men, indeed. [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL EXCLUSIVE S901 - 'DNR'

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 13, 2024 71:59

[DO NOT RESUSCITATE] Make a mockery of myself; wear smock to work I don't talk too much no more I just gossip somedays, Dark on mondays; The forgotten apostle With just enough rope To jump off and hope It all stops, soon The motocross and the terror stalkers Just across from the starbucks at the Rock –it got awkward But God Loves me Might start a talk show Some chef, with a pop tart A pop up club, a long night Some broke shards of glass, the yards of all the scars on stars and stripe Feels like a long night– Got coffee and tacos A long talk with your blonde wife To bypass the psycos Right, though? Bro, it's so over; I won a whole asshole and a four leaf clover In a game of poker Now, brush your shoulders off Brush your hair, Pet the dog, And kick the cat over and over Till he turns back to a robot “You're so gross.” –don't i know it. The whole world is over –you jump first, I'll follow Lets keep talking About the letters I penned To the false Gods, Painted them scarlett, of course Scattered em from here to Scarboro Fair, I was right there, then out of nowhere a new nightmare with nice hair Here we go again Lines out the door; We got lines out the door Out of Order The world is at war The whole world has run Out of water The four is the for Theres no five But the V for vendetta Theres lines out the door The whole world Is a mom And a daughter My jokes get better, The buildings look bigger I pretend this seltzer is alcohol Cause i want it To make me forget I've got all my– Huh There's a line out the door. What if– Me, And all of your friends And all of my Wait, I don't have any friends I'm getting a cat. I was just thinking about Mila Kunis. Oh yes, why's that? SETH MCFARLENE YEEEEE. YEEEEEEE. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. WHAT, GODDAMMIT GIGGITY! OKAY, ASSHOLE Eyes on eyes, and tears on tears All the years ive cried On ears on ears Why am I even here? It's been too long, since i've been touched I don't love love but i dislike lust I don't trust anyone I don't have a number I crawled up my arm, Danced with the blood drawn BLŪ wakes up famous. [The world swirls into a plume of dark blue sky; BLŪ awakens suddenly from the blackness of a deep sleep in the middle of a road, a group of people, friends, swirling around her.] YO. What? BLŪ. What's up. PARTY FOUL, BROH. … Billie Ellish? Billie Pirate Ellish. Uh. That's why the rum– Is gone. What. Guess i'm Jack Sparrow, now. Hey wait–are you even legal? Uh. I'm a mad fucking genius; are you legal? I don't know. Besides, this was your idea. What–what? Exactly. Get up. Wtf is going on in this scene. Idk i might a have to play the song again Fuck that. I'm about to slit myfucking wrists. HAVOC. Where are we going? You still got that NDA in your wallet? I–yeah. Then we're gucci. “Waking up Famous” I don't know exactly what happened. [Looking in the mirror, confused.] This is a nice leather jacket. I wonder if i'm still Vegan. Damn. I look mad rich. BLŪ hurry UP! [toilet flushes with foot] Alright, I'm coming. [Blu checks her pockets to find a wallet, the contents including numerous cards–metal ones, with copious amounts of cash, and pre-filled NDAs which have been folder neatly and stuffed into the corner pocket of the trifold wallet] Billabong. Classy. I'm never gonna finish that other project, am I? Whatever. Leave Fallon alone. I did. –it came back. Cut lil blonde Hot as Finneas O' Connell Possible homosexual, but god love him Cause I'm hungry Lookin for lunch Somebody as scrunches Pull up and crunches Cause my monster is Lookin to Humpty Dumpty Fuck, I forgot Rosie O'Donnal! I cant get no Satisfaction— The Rolling Stones What's wrong, Saint Jimmy? Lucius? What is it. Percius would like to see you. Oh. The Prince Lucius hasn't left his chamber in days—however, as his brother Percius has just returned from war, he quickly emerges from his resting place, an alter of sorts. Damn, I'm getting a headache. I almost never have headaches. It was true, and of course, as I started to write about this prince and his so said brother, Lucius and Perseus, I was reminded once more of Athens, where I had just been however briefly, in a short astral trip of sorts, wandering about in the dreamworld, looking for something or someone in place of my pillow to hold. Did you want to walk to Trader Joe's? I mean, kind of, but no. My muscles were sore and I had just spent some two hours in the gym, not on purpose but quite by accident, though only having run just under two miles, though at least uphill, and spending the rest of the time lifting—I had been bound to mostly beans and rice, and so however was bloated and gassy, quite slow and not as strong, my regular protein just out of reach… Dang. I have so much to fucking do today. I hadn't realized that somehow it was Saturday, although just a couple days before had been a Wednesday that felt like Sunday, and now again time was all out of sorts; it was a “holiday” weekend, and I was without a doubt, drowning in my own having-to-do's, and as such, weekends and days off were entirely not a thing, besides in ways that those bustled around me—and I was sure that some days had been lost, as I was planning to visit the food bank on Friday, but had somehow skipped over the end of the week entirely—somehow, that is, and I was sure sometimes that in skipping days, meditating and fasting about, however intermittently, that time itself shuffled in all the ways I had, between cross dimensions and parallels such as I—I had been hovering somewhere between the 6th and. 10th dimensions, for the most part, and none with having to understand the undoubted shifts in my own perception of time that were bound to happen, as I sprawled across the astral plains looking and searching for a sign that the tragic poverty, restlessness, and lack of peace wound end. Bound to your alter, my dear brother? Aye. So perhaps here there was another unfounded Kingdom within the realm of Ascencia—Lucius, a prince, and Percius—seemingly slated the King, and yet I had unreached such a conclusion as to assimilate an entirely factioned world, as of yet. What did you write last night? Uh…I don't know. Well, let's see Something had shaken me from my almost-sleep, laying sprawled across my bed, in the middle of the mattress, rather than to either side, which was rare; I typically preferred the left side of the mattress, anyway, but as I waited to launder my bedding, after a sweaty and sweltering almost summer day of lounging, smothered in shea butter and lackadaisically scrawling about what recordings had been buried in my phone, between the collection of books I had practically all found in the streets of New York and the rising temperatures of the tepid summer weather, my room was starting to smell funny—and without being able to burn sage anymore, for fear of being thrown back into the streets like a dog, I with every hope in the world figured that washing my thick bedding, comforter included, would restore the crisp and rigid, almost factory clean that I found satisfactory. Songs buzzed in and out of my head as if I hadn't enough already much to do—and still, I added into my growing pile of notes and mounds of work, even more songs—this time, The Rolling Stones. I can't get no Satisfaction… …but I try— —and I try— —and I try— And I try! I can't—get no—! God, I wish I could write something like that. The rock Gods had at the very least been accompanying me, and in a certain sense, so had the Gods of The Rock; I had been forced up out of my dormant state by a voice which urged me away from my near sleep—I had been up since six AM and it was something past midnight, and still the voice said— “Get up and write!” And though I had words tinkering around in my head like little coins in some sort of metal box, none of them quite made so much sense that I had to get up and write—however, still the voice, though not angry, but firm, insisted. The voice, for once, sounded female— a welcome change, and though I had become quite fond of males in general, in the solemnly celibate sense, it was a difference and yet none at all— a voice of wisdom had projected itself at me, and as I dragged myself about, reaching for a notebook and flipping through the pages, finding that the notebook was practically full… ‘great, more shit to do' I held the words that had tinkered around in my mind like little whispers until I found a page to make them full formed, and the words which fell into my hand as scriptured by the pen—my favorite writing utensil, nearly out of its cherishable gel ink, danced upon the page nearly on its own, channeling the words written as such: Once prosperous to throw The stone asunder Glisten whispers of water Tears of al tears |ter| Of the altar, For follow for fello, A felon of Antigone Grace, with shield A tattered tail, So flew with feathered Phoenix ? Feared, Foreshadowed not, Agreed upon however, Was the velvet woven path of us, So honored in her fortress . Yeah, something about Rockefeller Plaza. Well there were all these hooded figures in like weird, brown velvet robes— That's true, I saw that. Yeah, I was there, You WHAT? Look what I got. Fuck me, man. You know, there's a lot more to this story. I was hoping so, but however also, hoping not. Man, Jimmy Fallon's wife is super hot. Gee! Yeah man, she's so cute. W0W. I like her, They're Gods. I think they're Gods. yuh. What else did I write? There was something else? What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Somethin. Yeah. The pages of the notebook were all full, something of a book of shadows and protection spells I had used in an attempt to ward off my ex husband—how of course, that they were done with, I should very well have been jotting them into with all the notes, into the documents—later to burn them, unable to afford the parchment book I wanted. For what a withered way would call an honor for fortunes duty, Glorified wherein in as shadows, Cast upon reflections in redacted incantations and enchantments, foreword come, theone who waits Believing darkness be his fate Whatever, man. Fuck Jimmy Fallon. If you really feel that way! I feel a lot of ways. Well, don't. I'm so, so hungry… So, so lonely… So, so fuckin broke. Man—I learned all this dumb ass magic just to protect myself from this guy, and all this still happens! I think it's just Satan. [Satan Appears] Man— she is JACKED. Try this one. Follow me, boy! Uh— okay. I'm staying single forever. Don't look at me. That's my girl. Don't look at me. What the fuck. Stop looking at her: Don't look at me! Men are hopeless. Fuck dude, like, the worst thing imaginable is that this Jimmy Fallon dude actually hates me so much for this— What? Uh oh. And is so fucking powerful. He is. A very, very powerful— Well, what is it!? We don't— know. *gasps* He's a— SHHHHHH. [Redacted] Well, that's not doing much, is it? Seriously, just kill yourself again. Might have to! Fuck, why do all these robot demons SMELL like him? Satan? Yep. Satan ?! I'm— Seriously, save him. Seriously, God really loves Jimmy Fallon— (He's one of my favorites.) Favorite what's?! Just—favorites. Damn. This is getting to be like Greek Theatre. Great. Now everybody's gonna fucking die. It could be a comedy. Holy shit, yeah— This has mad good production value. I love it! Strange shit I just did give my OWSLA tat a kiss Smile for the camera, Pageantry of mattresses, A master of the MagicIan's chance at Chancellors dance, Look at Harrison trance Can I run a mile for President? A toy chest, A boy, just Obama I'm so much older Been through such trauma What the Willy wonka I should apply for Harvard New York over Boston So Columbia or Juliard I wish Son of a bitch, this is tragic I'm too old for scholarship Diploma's in another name I just got protective orders on I should start over But the world war is another Trump drama My Amazon cart is full of karma What you want from God? A trophy husband, Let's call him Oscar -undefeated. All this is weird I think imm married to the music Think of growing a beard Opening a beer And getting out of here All of my fears is Mommy dearest mommy dearest All of my hell is A body Imm a seed in a forest Been buried Bipolar, Supposedly, So tell me, Faery; How could I love you The way I I do If my mood Were restablized My blu life Gave me blue eyes Clean tub of water I don't belong here It's too late for me too Swapping Vogue for the People My people who hate me But I been so played, The hatred betrays me I walk both ways Down a one way street {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. [handle with care. ] lol this is so fucking obnoxious. i know. thats how you know i'm a DJ. hahaha shutup. HAHAHAHA [The Festival Project.™]

[The 10th Dimension]

[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 13, 2024 60:47

Make a mockery of myself; wear smock to work I don't talk too much no more I just gossip somedays, Dark on mondays; The forgotten apostle With just enough rope To jump off and hope It all stops, soon The motocross and the terror stalkers Just across from the starbucks at the Rock –it got awkward But God Loves me Might start a talk show Some chef, with a pop tart A pop up club, a long night Some broke shards of glass, the yards of all the scars on stars and stripe Feels like a long night– Got coffee and tacos A long talk with your blonde wife To bypass the psycos Right, though? Bro, it's so over; I won a whole asshole and a four leaf clover In a game of poker Now, brush your shoulders off Brush your hair, Pet the dog, And kick the cat over and over Till he turns back to a robot “You're so gross.” –don't i know it. The whole world is over –you jump first, I'll follow Lets keep talking About the letters I penned To the false Gods, Painted them scarlett, of course Scattered em from here to Scarboro Fair, I was right there, then out of nowhere a new nightmare with nice hair Here we go again Lines out the door; We got lines out the door Out of Order The world is at war The whole world has run Out of water The four is the for Theres no five But the V for vendetta Theres lines out the door The whole world Is a mom And a daughter My jokes get better, The buildings look bigger I pretend this seltzer is alcohol Cause i want it To make me forget I've got all my– Huh There's a line out the door. What if– Me, And all of your friends And all of my Wait, I don't have any friends I'm getting a cat. I was just thinking about Mila Kunis. Oh yes, why's that? SETH MCFARLENE YEEEEE. YEEEEEEE. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. WHAT, GODDAMMIT GIGGITY! OKAY, ASSHOLE Eyes on eyes, and tears on tears All the years ive cried On ears on ears Why am I even here? It's been too long, since i've been touched I don't love love but i dislike lust I don't trust anyone I don't have a number I crawled up my arm, Danced with the blood drawn BLŪ wakes up famous. [The world swirls into a plume of dark blue sky; BLŪ awakens suddenly from the blackness of a deep sleep in the middle of a road, a group of people, friends, swirling around her.] YO. What? BLŪ. What's up. PARTY FOUL, BROH. … Billie Ellish? Billie Pirate Ellish. Uh. That's why the rum– Is gone. What. Guess i'm Jack Sparrow, now. Hey wait–are you even legal? Uh. I'm a mad fucking genius; are you legal? I don't know. Besides, this was your idea. What–what? Exactly. Get up. Wtf is going on in this scene. Idk i might a have to play the song again Fuck that. I'm about to slit myfucking wrists. HAVOC. Where are we going? You still got that NDA in your wallet? I–yeah. Then we're gucci. “Waking up Famous” I don't know exactly what happened. [Looking in the mirror, confused.] This is a nice leather jacket. I wonder if i'm still Vegan. Damn. I look mad rich. BLŪ hurry UP! [toilet flushes with foot] Alright, I'm coming. [Blu checks her pockets to find a wallet, the contents including numerous cards–metal ones, with copious amounts of cash, and pre-filled NDAs which have been folder neatly and stuffed into the corner pocket of the trifold wallet] Billabong. Classy. I'm never gonna finish that other project, am I? Whatever. Leave Fallon alone. I did. –it came back. Cut lil blonde Hot as Finneas O' Connell Possible homosexual, but god love him Cause I'm hungry Lookin for lunch Somebody as scrunches Pull up and crunches Cause my monster is Lookin to Humpty Dumpty Fuck, I forgot Rosie O'Donnal! I cant get no Satisfaction— The Rolling Stones What's wrong, Saint Jimmy? Lucius? What is it. Percius would like to see you. Oh. The Prince Lucius hasn't left his chamber in days—however, as his brother Percius has just returned from war, he quickly emerges from his resting place, an alter of sorts. Damn, I'm getting a headache. I almost never have headaches. It was true, and of course, as I started to write about this prince and his so said brother, Lucius and Perseus, I was reminded once more of Athens, where I had just been however briefly, in a short astral trip of sorts, wandering about in the dreamworld, looking for something or someone in place of my pillow to hold. Did you want to walk to Trader Joe's? I mean, kind of, but no. My muscles were sore and I had just spent some two hours in the gym, not on purpose but quite by accident, though only having run just under two miles, though at least uphill, and spending the rest of the time lifting—I had been bound to mostly beans and rice, and so however was bloated and gassy, quite slow and not as strong, my regular protein just out of reach… Dang. I have so much to fucking do today. I hadn't realized that somehow it was Saturday, although just a couple days before had been a Wednesday that felt like Sunday, and now again time was all out of sorts; it was a “holiday” weekend, and I was without a doubt, drowning in my own having-to-do's, and as such, weekends and days off were entirely not a thing, besides in ways that those bustled around me—and I was sure that some days had been lost, as I was planning to visit the food bank on Friday, but had somehow skipped over the end of the week entirely—somehow, that is, and I was sure sometimes that in skipping days, meditating and fasting about, however intermittently, that time itself shuffled in all the ways I had, between cross dimensions and parallels such as I—I had been hovering somewhere between the 6th and. 10th dimensions, for the most part, and none with having to understand the undoubted shifts in my own perception of time that were bound to happen, as I sprawled across the astral plains looking and searching for a sign that the tragic poverty, restlessness, and lack of peace wound end. Bound to your alter, my dear brother? Aye. So perhaps here there was another unfounded Kingdom within the realm of Ascencia—Lucius, a prince, and Percius—seemingly slated the King, and yet I had unreached such a conclusion as to assimilate an entirely factioned world, as of yet. What did you write last night? Uh…I don't know. Well, let's see Something had shaken me from my almost-sleep, laying sprawled across my bed, in the middle of the mattress, rather than to either side, which was rare; I typically preferred the left side of the mattress, anyway, but as I waited to launder my bedding, after a sweaty and sweltering almost summer day of lounging, smothered in shea butter and lackadaisically scrawling about what recordings had been buried in my phone, between the collection of books I had practically all found in the streets of New York and the rising temperatures of the tepid summer weather, my room was starting to smell funny—and without being able to burn sage anymore, for fear of being thrown back into the streets like a dog, I with every hope in the world figured that washing my thick bedding, comforter included, would restore the crisp and rigid, almost factory clean that I found satisfactory. Songs buzzed in and out of my head as if I hadn't enough already much to do—and still, I added into my growing pile of notes and mounds of work, even more songs—this time, The Rolling Stones. I can't get no Satisfaction… …but I try— —and I try— —and I try— And I try! I can't—get no—! God, I wish I could write something like that. The rock Gods had at the very least been accompanying me, and in a certain sense, so had the Gods of The Rock; I had been forced up out of my dormant state by a voice which urged me away from my near sleep—I had been up since six AM and it was something past midnight, and still the voice said— “Get up and write!” And though I had words tinkering around in my head like little coins in some sort of metal box, none of them quite made so much sense that I had to get up and write—however, still the voice, though not angry, but firm, insisted. The voice, for once, sounded female— a welcome change, and though I had become quite fond of males in general, in the solemnly celibate sense, it was a difference and yet none at all— a voice of wisdom had projected itself at me, and as I dragged myself about, reaching for a notebook and flipping through the pages, finding that the notebook was practically full… ‘great, more shit to do' I held the words that had tinkered around in my mind like little whispers until I found a page to make them full formed, and the words which fell into my hand as scriptured by the pen—my favorite writing utensil, nearly out of its cherishable gel ink, danced upon the page nearly on its own, channeling the words written as such: Once prosperous to throw The stone asunder Glisten whispers of water Tears of al tears |ter| Of the altar, For follow for fello, A felon of Antigone Grace, with shield A tattered tail, So flew with feathered Phoenix ? Feared, Foreshadowed not, Agreed upon however, Was the velvet woven path of us, So honored in her fortress . Yeah, something about Rockefeller Plaza. Well there were all these hooded figures in like weird, brown velvet robes— That's true, I saw that. Yeah, I was there, You WHAT? Look what I got. Fuck me, man. You know, there's a lot more to this story. I was hoping so, but however also, hoping not. Man, Jimmy Fallon's wife is super hot. Gee! Yeah man, she's so cute. W0W. I like her, They're Gods. I think they're Gods. yuh. What else did I write? There was something else? What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Somethin. Yeah. The pages of the notebook were all full, something of a book of shadows and protection spells I had used in an attempt to ward off my ex husband—how of course, that they were done with, I should very well have been jotting them into with all the notes, into the documents—later to burn them, unable to afford the parchment book I wanted. For what a withered way would call an honor for fortunes duty, Glorified wherein in as shadows, Cast upon reflections in redacted incantations and enchantments, foreword come, theone who waits Believing darkness be his fate Whatever, man. Fuck Jimmy Fallon. If you really feel that way! I feel a lot of ways. Well, don't. I'm so, so hungry… So, so lonely… So, so fuckin broke. Man—I learned all this dumb ass magic just to protect myself from this guy, and all this still happens! I think it's just Satan. [Satan Appears] Man— she is JACKED. Try this one. Follow me, boy! Uh— okay. I'm staying single forever. Don't look at me. That's my girl. Don't look at me. What the fuck. Stop looking at her: Don't look at me! Men are hopeless. Fuck dude, like, the worst thing imaginable is that this Jimmy Fallon dude actually hates me so much for this— What? Uh oh. And is so fucking powerful. He is. A very, very powerful— Well, what is it!? We don't— know. *gasps* He's a— SHHHHHH. [Redacted] Well, that's not doing much, is it? Seriously, just kill yourself again. Might have to! Fuck, why do all these robot demons SMELL like him? Satan? Yep. Satan ?! I'm— Seriously, save him. Seriously, God really loves Jimmy Fallon— (He's one of my favorites.) Favorite what's?! Just—favorites. Damn. This is getting to be like Greek Theatre. Great. Now everybody's gonna fucking die. It could be a comedy. Holy shit, yeah— This has mad good production value. I love it! Strange shit I just did give my OWSLA tat a kiss Smile for the camera, Pageantry of mattresses, A master of the MagicIan's chance at Chancellors dance, Look at Harrison trance Can I run a mile for President? A toy chest, A boy, just Obama I'm so much older Been through such trauma What the Willy wonka I should apply for Harvard New York over Boston So Columbia or Juliard I wish Son of a bitch, this is tragic I'm too old for scholarship Diploma's in another name I just got protective orders on I should start over But the world war is another Trump drama My Amazon cart is full of karma What you want from God? A trophy husband, Let's call him Oscar -undefeated. All this is weird I think imm married to the music Think of growing a beard Opening a beer And getting out of here All of my fears is Mommy dearest mommy dearest All of my hell is A body Imm a seed in a forest Been buried Bipolar, Supposedly, So tell me, Faery; How could I love you The way I I do If my mood Were restablized My blu life Gave me blue eyes Clean tub of water I don't belong here It's too late for me too Swapping Vogue for the People My people who hate me But I been so played, The hatred betrays me I walk both ways Down a one way street {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

[The 10th Dimension]

Gerald’s World.

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 13, 2024 60:47

[In the 10th dimension of reality, all things become possible. ] Make a mockery of myself; wear smock to work I don't talk too much no more I just gossip somedays, Dark on mondays; The forgotten apostle With just enough rope To jump off and hope It all stops, soon The motocross and the terror stalkers Just across from the starbucks at the Rock –it got awkward But God Loves me Might start a talk show Some chef, with a pop tart A pop up club, a long night Some broke shards of glass, the yards of all the scars on stars and stripe Feels like a long night– Got coffee and tacos A long talk with your blonde wife To bypass the psycos Right, though? Bro, it's so over; I won a whole asshole and a four leaf clover In a game of poker Now, brush your shoulders off Brush your hair, Pet the dog, And kick the cat over and over Till he turns back to a robot “You're so gross.” –don't i know it. The whole world is over –you jump first, I'll follow Lets keep talking About the letters I penned To the false Gods, Painted them scarlett, of course Scattered em from here to Scarboro Fair, I was right there, then out of nowhere a new nightmare with nice hair Here we go again Lines out the door; We got lines out the door Out of Order The world is at war The whole world has run Out of water The four is the for Theres no five But the V for vendetta Theres lines out the door The whole world Is a mom And a daughter My jokes get better, The buildings look bigger I pretend this seltzer is alcohol Cause i want it To make me forget I've got all my– Huh There's a line out the door. What if– Me, And all of your friends And all of my Wait, I don't have any friends I'm getting a cat. I was just thinking about Mila Kunis. Oh yes, why's that? SETH MCFARLENE YEEEEE. YEEEEEEE. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. WHAT, GODDAMMIT GIGGITY! OKAY, ASSHOLE Eyes on eyes, and tears on tears All the years ive cried On ears on ears Why am I even here? It's been too long, since i've been touched I don't love love but i dislike lust I don't trust anyone I don't have a number I crawled up my arm, Danced with the blood drawn BLŪ wakes up famous. [The world swirls into a plume of dark blue sky; BLŪ awakens suddenly from the blackness of a deep sleep in the middle of a road, a group of people, friends, swirling around her.] YO. What? BLŪ. What's up. PARTY FOUL, BROH. … Billie Ellish? Billie Pirate Ellish. Uh. That's why the rum– Is gone. What. Guess i'm Jack Sparrow, now. Hey wait–are you even legal? Uh. I'm a mad fucking genius; are you legal? I don't know. Besides, this was your idea. What–what? Exactly. Get up. Wtf is going on in this scene. Idk i might a have to play the song again Fuck that. I'm about to slit myfucking wrists. HAVOC. Where are we going? You still got that NDA in your wallet? I–yeah. Then we're gucci. “Waking up Famous” I don't know exactly what happened. [Looking in the mirror, confused.] This is a nice leather jacket. I wonder if i'm still Vegan. Damn. I look mad rich. BLŪ hurry UP! [toilet flushes with foot] Alright, I'm coming. [Blu checks her pockets to find a wallet, the contents including numerous cards–metal ones, with copious amounts of cash, and pre-filled NDAs which have been folder neatly and stuffed into the corner pocket of the trifold wallet] Billabong. Classy. I'm never gonna finish that other project, am I? Whatever. Leave Fallon alone. I did. –it came back. Cut lil blonde Hot as Finneas O' Connell Possible homosexual, but god love him Cause I'm hungry Lookin for lunch Somebody as scrunches Pull up and crunches Cause my monster is Lookin to Humpty Dumpty Fuck, I forgot Rosie O'Donnal! I cant get no Satisfaction— The Rolling Stones What's wrong, Saint Jimmy? Lucius? What is it. Percius would like to see you. Oh. The Prince Lucius hasn't left his chamber in days—however, as his brother Percius has just returned from war, he quickly emerges from his resting place, an alter of sorts. Damn, I'm getting a headache. I almost never have headaches. It was true, and of course, as I started to write about this prince and his so said brother, Lucius and Perseus, I was reminded once more of Athens, where I had just been however briefly, in a short astral trip of sorts, wandering about in the dreamworld, looking for something or someone in place of my pillow to hold. Did you want to walk to Trader Joe's? I mean, kind of, but no. My muscles were sore and I had just spent some two hours in the gym, not on purpose but quite by accident, though only having run just under two miles, though at least uphill, and spending the rest of the time lifting—I had been bound to mostly beans and rice, and so however was bloated and gassy, quite slow and not as strong, my regular protein just out of reach… Dang. I have so much to fucking do today. I hadn't realized that somehow it was Saturday, although just a couple days before had been a Wednesday that felt like Sunday, and now again time was all out of sorts; it was a “holiday” weekend, and I was without a doubt, drowning in my own having-to-do's, and as such, weekends and days off were entirely not a thing, besides in ways that those bustled around me—and I was sure that some days had been lost, as I was planning to visit the food bank on Friday, but had somehow skipped over the end of the week entirely—somehow, that is, and I was sure sometimes that in skipping days, meditating and fasting about, however intermittently, that time itself shuffled in all the ways I had, between cross dimensions and parallels such as I—I had been hovering somewhere between the 6th and. 10th dimensions, for the most part, and none with having to understand the undoubted shifts in my own perception of time that were bound to happen, as I sprawled across the astral plains looking and searching for a sign that the tragic poverty, restlessness, and lack of peace wound end. Bound to your alter, my dear brother? Aye. So perhaps here there was another unfounded Kingdom within the realm of Ascencia—Lucius, a prince, and Percius—seemingly slated the King, and yet I had unreached such a conclusion as to assimilate an entirely factioned world, as of yet. What did you write last night? Uh…I don't know. Well, let's see Something had shaken me from my almost-sleep, laying sprawled across my bed, in the middle of the mattress, rather than to either side, which was rare; I typically preferred the left side of the mattress, anyway, but as I waited to launder my bedding, after a sweaty and sweltering almost summer day of lounging, smothered in shea butter and lackadaisically scrawling about what recordings had been buried in my phone, between the collection of books I had practically all found in the streets of New York and the rising temperatures of the tepid summer weather, my room was starting to smell funny—and without being able to burn sage anymore, for fear of being thrown back into the streets like a dog, I with every hope in the world figured that washing my thick bedding, comforter included, would restore the crisp and rigid, almost factory clean that I found satisfactory. Songs buzzed in and out of my head as if I hadn't enough already much to do—and still, I added into my growing pile of notes and mounds of work, even more songs—this time, The Rolling Stones. I can't get no Satisfaction… …but I try— —and I try— —and I try— And I try! I can't—get no—! God, I wish I could write something like that. The rock Gods had at the very least been accompanying me, and in a certain sense, so had the Gods of The Rock; I had been forced up out of my dormant state by a voice which urged me away from my near sleep—I had been up since six AM and it was something past midnight, and still the voice said— “Get up and write!” And though I had words tinkering around in my head like little coins in some sort of metal box, none of them quite made so much sense that I had to get up and write—however, still the voice, though not angry, but firm, insisted. The voice, for once, sounded female— a welcome change, and though I had become quite fond of males in general, in the solemnly celibate sense, it was a difference and yet none at all— a voice of wisdom had projected itself at me, and as I dragged myself about, reaching for a notebook and flipping through the pages, finding that the notebook was practically full… ‘great, more shit to do' I held the words that had tinkered around in my mind like little whispers until I found a page to make them full formed, and the words which fell into my hand as scriptured by the pen—my favorite writing utensil, nearly out of its cherishable gel ink, danced upon the page nearly on its own, channeling the words written as such: Once prosperous to throw The stone asunder Glisten whispers of water Tears of al tears |ter| Of the altar, For follow for fello, A felon of Antigone Grace, with shield A tattered tail, So flew with feathered Phoenix ? Feared, Foreshadowed not, Agreed upon however, Was the velvet woven path of us, So honored in her fortress . Yeah, something about Rockefeller Plaza. Well there were all these hooded figures in like weird, brown velvet robes— That's true, I saw that. Yeah, I was there, You WHAT? Look what I got. Fuck me, man. You know, there's a lot more to this story. I was hoping so, but however also, hoping not. Man, Jimmy Fallon's wife is super hot. Gee! Yeah man, she's so cute. W0W. I like her, They're Gods. I think they're Gods. yuh. What else did I write? There was something else? What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Somethin. Yeah. The pages of the notebook were all full, something of a book of shadows and protection spells I had used in an attempt to ward off my ex husband—how of course, that they were done with, I should very well have been jotting them into with all the notes, into the documents—later to burn them, unable to afford the parchment book I wanted. For what a withered way would call an honor for fortunes duty, Glorified wherein in as shadows, Cast upon reflections in redacted incantations and enchantments, foreword come, theone who waits Believing darkness be his fate Whatever, man. Fuck Jimmy Fallon. If you really feel that way! I feel a lot of ways. Well, don't. I'm so, so hungry… So, so lonely… So, so fuckin broke. Man—I learned all this dumb ass magic just to protect myself from this guy, and all this still happens! I think it's just Satan. [Satan Appears] Man— she is JACKED. Try this one. Follow me, boy! Uh— okay. I'm staying single forever. Don't look at me. That's my girl. Don't look at me. What the fuck. Stop looking at her: Don't look at me! Men are hopeless. Fuck dude, like, the worst thing imaginable is that this Jimmy Fallon dude actually hates me so much for this— What? Uh oh. And is so fucking powerful. He is. A very, very powerful— Well, what is it!? We don't— know. *gasps* He's a— SHHHHHH. [Redacted] Well, that's not doing much, is it? Seriously, just kill yourself again. Might have to! Fuck, why do all these robot demons SMELL like him? Satan? Yep. Satan ?! I'm— Seriously, save him. Seriously, God really loves Jimmy Fallon— (He's one of my favorites.) Favorite what's?! Just—favorites. Damn. This is getting to be like Greek Theatre. Great. Now everybody's gonna fucking die. It could be a comedy. Holy shit, yeah— This has mad good production value. I love it! Strange shit I just did give my OWSLA tat a kiss Smile for the camera, Pageantry of mattresses, A master of the MagicIan's chance at Chancellors dance, Look at Harrison trance Can I run a mile for President? A toy chest, A boy, just Obama I'm so much older Been through such trauma What the Willy wonka I should apply for Harvard New York over Boston So Columbia or Juliard I wish Son of a bitch, this is tragic I'm too old for scholarship Diploma's in another name I just got protective orders on I should start over But the world war is another Trump drama My Amazon cart is full of karma What you want from God? A trophy husband, Let's call him Oscar -undefeated. All this is weird I think imm married to the music Think of growing a beard Opening a beer And getting out of here All of my fears is Mommy dearest mommy dearest All of my hell is A body Imm a seed in a forest Been buried Bipolar, Supposedly, So tell me, Faery; How could I love you The way I I do If my mood Were restablized My blu life Gave me blue eyes Clean tub of water I don't belong here It's too late for me too Swapping Vogue for the People My people who hate me But I been so played, The hatred betrays me I walk both ways Down a one way street {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

{OWSLA Confidential, LTD. The Infinite Skrillifiles: Next Generation— Quantum Force} (Enter The Multiverse)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 16, 2024 74:23

This is not the free world. We remain unfree from the reign of Man. A reign of terror; A reign of disease; Restlessness, Abuse; A reign of war. Power and control. I was indeed a submissive, But not so much so that I had become null to the insensitivities of the world, the common man a mere conjecture of what had been true to become of women, as slaves to their captors—doomed to repeat the cycle of what had been born of war at all—born in the truth that mankind had been born of woman, bred to be almost entirely consumed in the physical realm by the mysteries of such as what had been before, in the darkness of chaos. Wonder, in the curiosity as such lies the hidden mystique of a world which he knows not beyond the unconscious conception of his own creation; a manifestation within the confines of the spirit— a world of material wealth, born from thought—our of the warmth and the light of nature, of cosmos, the woman's womb and world from where the fabric of life is woven— a love which he seems not to understand at all, but becomes however facinated with the touch of lust, knowing nothing of a love and of a mother often overlooked as God. The Red Dawn Is Upon Us Who but a man could protect a sacred heart overshadowed by the scars of a body so tragically missed by the misfortune of the modern man's insatiable thirst for perfection—his pride and his dignity clouding with judgement the eye of beauty in the uneven and illogical blindness of lust—the quilted pride and honor in lawlessness; the wilted and weathered age of one another falling into dissatisfaction, a curse to which his own demise furnishes want beyond logic, succumbs need to nothingness— a disfigurement of heart and spirit, waging war within himself, burning what he seeks to hide longer, loveform vanishing as does his wisdom, plundered perfection at its peak for nothing less than progression— a mind shattered at the unlasting haunts of wilderness, nature of God unknown as nature itself becomes destroyed; mankind, a toxic variety, a wounded force of demise upon its planet and its creatures housed. The damage to my mind would never heal, as the scars on my lips and face had not— the knowing that man had no bounds, his rage would destroy earth as it had destroyed me—there was no peace, there was no love—there was no kindness known at all; man's intolerance of nature had consumed all of us—his inability to understand the divinity in cosmic form, an unknown void. Secret President Deathwish Enter The Multiverse The Legend of S Ū P C Я E E™ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension L E G E N D S The Seven Souls Saga OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL, LTD.The infinite Skrillifiles: Next Generation— Quantum Force [The door is kicked in.] What the FUCK. I'M THE FUCK I get that. Whatever, move. [he begins to rifle through the cabinets] Now where is it? What the fuck are you looking for? Shut UP. WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE. You call this a house? Dammit. Where would she keep something like this—? If by “she” you mean ME. I don't mean “you.” I'm the only one who lives here. NOBODY lives here. What. Right. What?! Right what?! You really don't know, do you? Don't know what? You are not who you think you are. Who do I think I am? What?! Who do you think I AM? That's right. Now shut up. Get out of my house. This is not a HOUSE. And even if it was a HOUSE, it's not YOUR house. What! SHUT UP. You're making a mess! I am a mess. STOP IT. That's alright—I know you'll clean it up. I thought I'm not who I thought I am. Yeah. But I know who you are. Tsh. Are you going somewhere with this? Eventually, but right now I need my back rubbed. Fine. PREVIOUSLY ON… Whatever Just— “Tidbits” Points: Jennifer Lopez in the 90's enters immidiate superstardom and fame, as The Illuminati, which has been tracking her every move for quite some time, conspicuously gifts her with a handful of large, rare, and uncut diamonds—she becomes a Kingpin and near overnight success, keeping the secret of the diamonds to herself—however, as she is skyrocketed to success and fame, strange and mystical things begin happening all around—and even more strange and mysterious, mystical people—besides the usually strange and magical celebrities and otherwise unworldly weirdos within the Illuminati's ranks— begin to appear, acting as guiding forces between the multidimensional realms which within the various portals a hidden world — infinity and beyond— has been kept, only exposed through the stories, shows, and — Wait a second — a montage— montage— I'm being intercepted. What? What about a montage?? I love a good montage. Everybody loves a good montage. the infinite Jennifer Aniston and her Multidimensional counterparts Jennifer Aniston is tasked as becoming a guardian angel, to help protect and watch over the mysterious extraterrestrial formerly known as supacree, currently masquerading as CC as she attempts to escape the spiral of magical attacks from unknown forces, after being trapped in New York City. You know what? I love it. I'll take it. Are you sure? Yeah, I'm sure. I love her. I love her. it'll take it. JENNIFER ANNISTON, a well-known A-list actress whose rise to fame in the 1990's created her as a Hollywood superstar (and Illuminati staple) has been looking for the perfect project to invest her time to— rumors within the Underground have been circulating about a “secret podcast”, to which it's curator, a homeless and downtrodden musician and amateur DJ publishing Illuminati doctrine, some of which is only known to the limited and coveted higher ranks within the organization, interwoven into the plot's narratives as “Easter eggs”; the unformed screenplays have been archived and passed around for a number of years within a small community of elites, and some even plagiarized by the mindless and money hungry lowest ranking industry professionals—however—as it is known by the leaders of the organization as a whole, the true origins of this doctrine remains “unknown”, and the identity of the author, is surmised to be the prophesied scribe, set to arrive as the dawning of a new era arises, to write within her words the hidden truths to be sought by all mankind and otherwise—and therefore, must be protected and hidden within the organizations cradle at all costs; though misunderstood greatly, The Illuminati has been tasked with spreading the divine light to the human species through artform and storytelling, and as the art of wordfare becomes a lost art, the doctrine must be colluded to be written, before the end of the scribe's time, said to be often—a most untimely death, as the forces of darkensss seek to end all that remains of the love and light of the divine kind. Damn, really: Jennifer Aniston. I really like her eyes: Well yeah, they're mine, so. Apparently or whatever, Jennifer Anniston is assigned to guide CC as she trains to stand up as the scribe — Who revealed herself as so in Los Angeles, at Carl Cox's show. I dropped three cards for form the center of my eye, Here: An equilateral triangle. I Am. Two— These markings will be known to those as I, The scribe. Three— A world unknown awaits all those who seek the truth of the divine light in the pursuit of higher knowledge. INT. EQUINOX SPORTS CLUB NEW YORK. MANHATTAN. DAY JENNIFER ANNISTON enters the elevator—to her left, towering over her, she spots JIMMY FALLON, trying to remain unseen. …Jim? Oh, yeah, hey, What re you doing here? Whatever I want. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here. This is by the way, when Satan switches from Jimmy fallon's body to Jennifer Anniston, hereby known as Jennifer Anisatan— just before the scene at Equinox “I'm holding in a fart.” So wait, who is Jimmy Fallon, then? Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. I'm over it. ————————————————No wait, don't. Tie me to the cross Bleed on my sickness m Crossfaders, behind us Blinder up, bonded Surreal, The sunsets are longer Open your mind, your highness Crossfire, behind us (Someone else writing this) Dawn comes on stronger The sunsets are longer Tie me to your honor Come before me Somebody said you were the apocalypse I should have listened to my father Somebody told me you won the world at a carnival I should have never listened to my mother I should have listened to my father I should have listened to my father I should have listened to my father Come before me Tie me to your honor Born of blood, The borderline genius You were the apocalypse Tie me to your cross MAYA RUDOLPH Is weird. MAYA RUDOLPH prepares for a SAYONCE in her formerly secret apartment on the upper east side dedicated entirely to magical purposes Ok. Ok. Okay? Ok. The worst part about it is, I do understand you, Because I am you The very worst part of it is I want a family To hold you hand And rub your back But I just can't have you —I'm just a fan, dude. The truth is I've got two suitcases, Some capsules of cyanide, An axe and some anthrax A cat in my lap And a failing laptop I've been living hand to mouth I've got A ripped backpack A stress ball A Hackey sack A hockey bag A volleyball And a mouthful of gunpowder How do you like me now? It's gonna take forever to fund my project But it's gonna take longer To find my body Cause nobody loves me Nobody has my number The phone is shut off And so is the water (By that I mean, my love; It's all coming out blood now) I must be backed up And stuffed full of crystal cocks I could give it up for a wand Or a ringworm Oh God My wrists are itching to ditch this place I fell asleep with a gun to my head And woke up Cobain Okay? Ok Okay? Ok. Sorry to wake you I came to rape you HEATH LEDGER hello. OH, GOD. HEATH LEDGER I heard you like ghosts. I— I don't. HEATH LEDGER Oh, you don't? No—! HEATH LEDGER oh! wait—who are you? HEATH LEDGER (Makes joker face) All my friends are dead, anyway I'm loving more ghosts than people these days The faces, the golden days The golden retrievers I need some relief, man Release me Sweet, freedom Just lay on your back, And I'll take it from there JOKER? Aha. I'm in love with the idea of Death The idea of Leaving this world behind The idea of love The ideal of love The ideal of love The seductive touch I'm in love with the idea of Not knowing pain The idea of Not needing money The idea of love The ideal of love The ideal of love The seductive barrel of a gun So run away Run far from me Far as the eye can see— And I'll aim for the head But probably just get the neck Or the center of the back Twirl around, girl Do your dance Heads or tales for the daughters The blondes, The live that you wanted The life that you wasted The knife to your back The life flight The kite hack Never spend your heart on band tickets Don't you know This is so much more Disappointing in person We all are Never spend your bet on your bottom dollar The kite and the rock band The lost rock The last dollar Diamonds on your JENNIFER LOPEZ GET IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, BITCH. NO WAY, J-LO. YOU LOVE ME EXACTLY. GETAWAYFROMME. DONT MAKE ME CALL GOLDBERG. I'M LIKE WAY MORE SCARED OF JANET JACKSON. JANRT JACKSON GUESS WHAT?! OH NO!!! NOOOO. U PICKS UP TO SUPER SPEED wtf. How does she run that fast, that fat? I really don't know. Did you call my name? Did you wake me from my relentless dreams I needed you Just like you needed me I called your name You called me Follow me home Follow me to the road we both know Open the doors for the lonely Follow me home Follow me home Sista sista What it is, mista? Turn the tables, Drums, then get my sticks sucked You dig it? Turn on the television I'm on in an minute This could be infinite, Nothing to defend here, Just No, not the google documents! GET IN THE HOLE. Hm. What. Blood Shower All along the watch tower Do you feel good? Do you? Do you feel bad about this. I do. I feel bad about this. I forgot to tell you– I should probably let you know that I just want to MAN, FUCK THIS DUDE. MA. WAHT. IT'S ON. WHAt. THE SHOW IS ON. THEWHAT. THE– *suddenly self aware* …I gotta get out of Boston. What, first this was about war, now it's about bird people? It's about a war WITH the bird people. I should sleep. Hahaha. No. This isn't funny anymore. At least it's over. MA– Oh, it's far from over. Yo, i'm going through some crazy shit right now. Spur of the moment I'd never thought of it; This is gonna take forever. I don't have the patience To even write this I just want french fries right now But been up for two days with no gym and I'm on a diet. GUAC TIME. No, no burritos. GUAC TIME. Oh shit, this is getting real as fuck . NOw i see it three ways. I love it. I hate it. HEY, LET ME OUT. GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, SKRILLEX. I'M DILLON FRANCIS. IN THE HOLE. Check it out. Huh. It's another DJ. *agrees* Should we pick him up. WEll, the good news is: I found your friend. Oh, that's good. The bad news is: He's dead. Oh, that–'s … nice. Yeah. It is. Uh. Kaskade. Yeah. We gotta find Ryan. Why. What's up? You're freaking me out. Why. What's up. Nothing IS it my eyes? I– *wild ass eyes* Yeah, it's probably that. Fuck dude, what did you do to deadmau5. NOTHIN. He's not the same. What the fuck is that. Holy shit I jus timejumped Where the fuck are you going. How the fuck could this happen?! It COULDN'T. Well, that's it then. *shrugs* Well, I guess we're just gonna have to go dig up Dillon Francis. I guess so. Do you think he's still alive. Like, probably not– Maybe… No, probably not @prodbywar& @Halmadeit This amazon order took me nine hours Alexa, I think i should fire her Like a arm I don't leave at night without armor Don't make me a martyr Your mom will be proud of us all If i make it outta here And i'll look after her Got the whole block coming up on my heels as I walk Wtf is it… Idk dude. Is it speeding up? I…i think so. There's no way this is 140 IT's 140. It's 140 . There's no way. Yes way. Nah huh. Let me see. No. Let me at the decks. Let me at the decks. NO. YO LET ME AT THE DECKS. You want deks. Yes. I got deks. Really. yeus . I never listened to it like this In ableton I read serato, synesthesia and rekordbox I talk a lot, I'm like a human music box I walk a lot I run my mouth a mile a minute (faster than i run around the track reciting rap words) Like they're passwords. Oh, I could do this forever.. I wish i had i microphone right now And was all alone With the lights off Lying on the floor I'd be lying if i said I could afford you Just to fornicate But may consider playing with a foreigner If you're all for her I'm unnerved, you know Cause i've been up so long My monster likes to play with boys and Make the bass go down below where Nobody does anymore Once I get a hold of things Or the hang of it You've got another hot ones on your hands I've another record under my belt Or in my roster, Whatever you'd call it But now I've got no time to bark about Wanting a dog and a daughter But none of the responsibility or Going through all the trouble to find her a father I'm still holding a fart in. Reaally–cause–it's been a really long time. WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT A LONG TIME, JIMMY FALLON?? Um a lot! You literally just saw me make the journey all the way up from nothing. I am nothing EXACTLY. I don't have time to fight with you Jiimmy Fallon. I did NOT write these games by myself you know?! Um, excuse me– “GAMES” ?! YES, GAMES. Uh, I've only got one game with you in it, my friend. Is that so! One game that I've written with the Great–formerly LATE Jimmy Fallon. Is that like a play on words cause i'm on late night TV YOu'RE ON ALL THE TIME TV, JIMMY. NBC SHIT IS PRACTICALLY AUTOMATICALLY SYNDICATED. -_- …are you alright. –_-_-__-_ Hold on, I think i've got it Nice, I found a growler. yOu still haven't got all the monsters and sprites Ive got all the big ones, but the little ones are harder to catch. GrO0Wl3rrr. Aww. He's so ugly. Yeah, but cute, though, right. I don't think so. Gro)WwlErrrrrrrrr. Aww. That's so fucking gross. lol . so what does this thing look like. Well, that't the thing about the monsters and sprites. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. It's alright, it's alright–he's nice. WHAT. THAT'S A SPRITE. No, it's a monster. He's just scary. SUPACREE. David Bowie. What up. God, it took me ages to find you. Tell me about it. I'm still trying. We've been expecting you for a long time. You were expecting I'd die? Yes. So when she says she's “married to the music…” I'm married to the music. Oh, so. Yo, honestly if you een want to talk to this bitch, you'd better have like a musical instrument, or a mic in your hands, Otherwise– No, getawayfrom me. It's not even worth it. HI. –No. What's up? Tempo. SUNNI Cotour From the store I was poor Now i'm honorable In velour, Glamour (Snap) Forsure, Jesus Christs is making appearances in my abletons I'm not able to comprehend or understand exactly the message, But the evidence sire is mounting Get it Reached the temple, More of a sanctuary, Is that sacrilegious I guess it is, I'm stressed as ever Trying to get it to gether I'm way too tired for a remix; All i really want is some fries that are french And some thighs that are thick Like mine to sit on like five or six dicks Pick up up like chopped sticks Even more previously on— WHAT SHOW IS THIS? I DONT KNOW. (BUT ITS A THING.) “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—beffldled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on somehh th int, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delisuins of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeker to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Of into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone reliever her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the Gid of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never due) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever your spending If money the God,l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new hits boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Holdberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, all lives. Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5 bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know l It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on have a seat Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Cente Lmfao I need this word hold on eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to run far, And bring back The life that I want I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point … Illegal immigration creates the need for inflation beyond the affordability of the average taxpayer, even earning income at a living wage or above median income; as a result, the American taxpayers are negatively affected by the per-person cost that each individual migrant—and each individual migrant child, which burdens the system with the responsibility of said costs—the housing, supplemental nutrition, and education falling onto the American taxpayer. With the world debt increasing due to the limited availability of resources and the increasing cost of living, continued inflation and diminishing energy resources, the mass migration of hundreds of thousands of undocumented illegal individuals seeking asylum should not have been allowed at all, and should be seen as a direct threat to the safety and security of the Nation, as the United States continues to struggle with China's economically strategic infiltration, limiting the ability of the United States to act due to its amount of debt alone. {Enter The Multiverse} “The Secret President” Each eligible male over the age of 18 seeking asylum or citezenship having moved to the country illegally should ideally be automatically drafted to serve under the Armed forces of the United Atates of America, after completing a health and safety evaluation—assuring each applicant for citezenship is a peaceful, law abiding citezen, employed and tax paying, does not burden the Human Services/Welfare system, and immidiately strengthens the ability of the United States to protect itself from hostile threat. Females and minors granted asylum will have to prove the conception of each minor child born in the United States occurred within the United States to ensure citezenship of said child or children born within the United States— children may no longer be used as a form of automatic citezenshio unless conceived within the United States. Oh yeah, in a perfect world. Look, Maria and her 6 kids should not be the responsibility of the working class taxpayers, and Carlito should not be the backbone foundation of his entire family by his automatic citizenship just by being born without a choice; this child, an infant, should not be used as a means of immigrating to the United States—this directly affects his quality of life and the wellbeing of others, and even his own ability to make decisions during his lifetime. I guess. Whatever. It costs less and adds more value to our National growth if instead of allowing what has happened to continue, we actually put these human beings into a better world by creating it for them, because of their inability to do it themselves— and giving them the ability to become higher thinking, well educated, healthy and productive human beings instead of glorified slaves, laborers, and baby machines that burden and congest literally every system we have. All the while knowing that in the right conditions, these children could become some of the brightest minds in our world. The problem is, these people are coming with nothing and expecting everything. Food, clothing, shelter — All because they've been programmed to believe that living in the United States offers something better— when in reality, this is a game of control, corporate slavery and greed— the ability to build and maintain wealth often overlooked by a corporate conglomerate to buy and sell what lies just out of reach of the true American laborers: the American dream, and the American lifestyle. Brand name clothes, cars, and shoes—oftentimes the intensity of needing to become the American standard of materialism often logistically outweighs the migrant's need to create independence outside of the system— a system which costs American m Born citezens what should be a birthright of affordability and growth, the maintenance of finances, and the adaptability of the American worker—when paying out of pocket for living expenses, education, and housing falls to the working class, almost a dying breed, as the increase of poverty of lower income Americans vanishes the lower and middle working classes. We simply cannot afford it. Stay in Mexico, wtf. Life is simple, the food is good— You don't need Nikes and an iPhone; But I get it— You see the music videos, The American tourists, The lifestyles of the rich and the famous And you think— You really think “That could be me. That could be us” The American Dream But freedom isn't free They're waging a war on everything that isn't The American doll— They only want the best of the best Of the most beautiful women— And nothing, And I mean nothing— And I mean nothing at all Is uglier than poverty— So, your chance of escaping this slavery, Is slim to none, Without selling your body, Your soul, And your mind Even as the most beautiful women of the world, Even yet unborn to become from the womb of your mother The hustle is real Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Love, Skrillex.

united states america god tv love jesus christ american new york amazon fear texas health trust new york city power google hollywood china man los angeles house rock las vegas mexico anxiety americans games food dj home brand er guns holy leaving national satan south open iphone funny forbes fortune started champion temple run force dark beyonce networking motherhood manhattan joker queens abuse worse burning shit audience next generation trash gotta heads fuck new yorker tower jamaica tempo lying riding congratulations wtf underground remove classic blow reverse i am david bowie butterflies armed supply jennifer lopez bitch infinite multiverse wash quantum shut foreign younger illegal selfish bought copyright realize fix repeat diamonds nah shut up permanent buried tragic hyper brotherhood illuminati spur hatred disappointing no way drums aha i love cc mister shirts artemis curses atari secret life corrections jimmy fallon bury disconnect reached automatic int jb advisory ur complications jennifer aniston walked equinox females tie confidential rubber irony hm nothin bleed rooftop kg kingpin shabbat idk heath ledger skrillex hahaha mmm babysitting multidimensional surreal tidbits no love fix it dammit samo deadmau5 kaskade crossfire who are you fairbanks swallowed sunni carlito maya rudolph lmfao skr antenna restlessness jeez stop it nikes thoth carl cox dillon francis tsh ohh hah daisies tryna aww new york city department celibate god can jennifer anniston rots picket blinder white power sunn idlewild cerulean health commissioner twirl god find previously on satan jesus dexter morgan yaw gid cellophane stay dead palpitations god so rockefeller plaza owsla let me out waht ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags in the hole

bucket list.

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 13, 2024 17:49

OWSLA confidential exclusive.

bucket list owsla

02. WAFFLES. (Instrumental)

Play Episode Listen Later May 26, 2024 2:09

02. WAFFLES. Level one Level up: Go Brooklyn has a surf club (Where am I supposed to surf in Brooklyn— Coney Island? How am I supposed to surf in Coney Island There's a hydroponic needle in my hot dog That's gross (2 chainz style) If you grew up in The projects I'm sorry; You should run for governor Or the Oval Office— I would trust you to protect us -31 I'mma change the words up I want Roscoe Waffles with some syrup— Serve holdup; Guess I'm on the wrong coast On a greyhound bus, now Just to go to Roscoe's Waffles and Shrup [chicken and waffles Chicken and waffles Chicken and waffles Chicken and waffles] -Sunni Blū You expect me to go surfing in the projects Fuck is Coney Island? (Nonsense!) All the trash– (trash) and tug boats (toot toot) I can't get my surf on! I am on the wrong coast! Oh shit, it really was originally I took a flixbus just to go to… I fly Spirit Airlines, Just go to go Roscoe's Been a long time since I been in it Do my dance and trance I'm spinnin Cameras flash And I look different I make dubstep Bitch I'm [NO!] —that's like yoncè x Yoncè crosses NOTHING Got it. I don't care I got flair I'm from LA They love my hair They always stare And glaring Imm aware of them Imm Karen under All these shades I wear Chicken and some waffles Guess I'm on the wrong coast (nicki style) None of these niggaz can't rap like me; I am present; under the tree Can't lock me up, My love is free Killing this bEA Arthur T-e-a (I got a secret) Bitch I'm the best Bitch I'm bless Bitch you call me a bitch I will dismiss you Listen, kids I'm dead! Not regrets Butter, bread Suck my twists Or braid my hat But your verse sound like murder Deadmau5 forges an appearance o— Is it the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon or is it —late nights with Jimmy Fallon? I don't know. I don't care: Just— look me UP. NO, Jimmy Fallon! WHYNOT. BECAUSE, SIR, YOU ARE A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION, and therefore DONOTEXIST.. NO, YOU DONT EXIST! Not yet, anyway,.. *dissappears* Oh, the irony… [Ū/SUPACREE is invisible, and has therefore made this man— “JIMMY FALLON” “Presumably” “Presumably” We don't know! — look crazy, which isn't a good look for him, considering…] JIMMY FALLON stops short, realizing everyone has stopped shopping to stare at him. —he is famous.] TMZ (But is the dude from Lilo and stich with a camera) (Snaps photo) JIMMY FALLON [expletive] After his appearance on the talk show as Deadmau5, “JOEL ZIMMERMAN, an extraterrestrial secret agent and top level hacker, entraps THE COSMIC AVENGER, aka “JIMMY FALLON” in an inescapable void beyond the interdimensional jurisdictions, imprisoning him in an undetectable and inescapable time hol; a synthetic VOID. What. What is this. I don't know yet, what to call it actually. You look like a T-Rex. You look like ….like what? What do I look like? I don't have time for banter, Fallon. I'm a mastermind. Put me back. Can't do that. You're gonna pay for this! (Shrugs, texting in a slide out keyboard device] I'm sure I can afford it. Bye. [the device opens a portal, into which TESTPILOT disappears] So wait, why is he DEADMAU5, then JOEL, then TESTPILOT. Cause, that's just now it goes. I told you, stay away from this guy. I did! but then— HEEEEEEEYYYYYY. What. HEY, What, Jimmy Fallon? Oh, so that's what he did. TINA FEY That's it, I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill— *gasp* …Tina? WHAT. Can you see me? Barely! Who are you?! WHAT. Okay, but— Don't be so angry. (Angrily) I'M NOT ANGRY. I'M JUST STRESSED. Well, don't be. DONT TELL ME TO (She pops her stress ball—) My stress ball!! Don't worry—! (Worriedly) I'm not worried! I'm STRESSED! (Almost crying) It's okay. Don't cry *almost very ugly crying* No. Don't do that *almost even uglier ugly cry* No— *sniffs m* No— *heaves, super almost ugly-ugly* It's okay, Tina! Look I have another one! See! I DON'T WANT THAT ONE, I WANT— *goddamn, that's almost the ugliest cry* HERE. [beat] [though her biggest-ever brown eyes are welled up with tears, she sees the new ball and is instantly mezmerized] But— —just—don't cry— That looks—just like— my old one! Ta-dah! It is your old one! But! Hi! Remember me? [TINA FEY suddenly flashes back to the 90's, where she obtained her stress ball, and remembers the strange and yet kind “old woman” she once followed along her rise to success, skyrocketing her through time—the ‘great spirit' who walked with her along her rise to fame] Oh my— [the festival project] BLOG. Gazuntite. I started a BLOG. What's that mean: I don't know. We'll see. “Illuminati Dreams 103” [Tales of a Superstar DJ] Seemed as if it was some kind of movie set or backstage at a major event, or maybe both—I finally had the opportunity to be alone with Joel, so I took my first chance, massaging his back and kissing him, beginning to make love to him—then, —of course, once I started actually having sex with him, another girl cut in—she was short, extremely overweight, and dark skinned, not very pretty at all—she started talking and then said that she wanted her phone, and I got upset and told her to leave—she didn't seem too mad, and once she left I started to more passionate make love to him, now that I had him alone—then, Joel for some reason became cold, and stopped me saying “You Are Not Welcome Here”, which made me sad, but I didn't cry—he went on some kind of rant about wanting his phone, and I became annoyed that people were so worried about their phones; I let him go, but as he was leaving, still upset with me, he said something like “maybe it will work out next time around”, and I knew he meant next lifetime—I told him “it's a long life without you”, and I became extremely sad—although was glad this lifetime I had at least seen him, and though we didn't finish lovemaking I was somewhat satisfied that we at least able to love a little, and was gentle with him. I didn't blame him ‘—it must have been my OWSLA tattoo.' It's always a long life without Joel Zimmerman. I couldn't say for a fortune even how that happened—although for a fortune I might think of some kind of explanation that would go along with the way I had started to feel about this man, unfortunately and albeit, without actually knowing him beyond his music, but— [Tales of a Superstar DJ] Something really was off about Mr, and yet all was well; I was correct in that my ex husband had Formed new offspring, and even better yet, however, off of my prediction, this new woman had come to the same conclusion I had: that he simply was not fit for partnership, but at least, perhaps, parenthood would keep him working—and now, with the most recent picture of my son that I had, I was back at work, although not with the clarity as I had once had, and it did appear that indeed something was off, and had been for some time. I had left my skateboard in the gym the night before, and luckily for me, no one had taken it, and I once again began counting my blessings, knowing that I needed to move on and out of the rut I had been in—I was finally at least kind of willing to work, but only now was left the monotonous task of actually finding a job which would allow me to continue to grow in my artistry, with the unsettling understanding that I was just maybe and perhaps wasn't cut out for the luck it would take to hit superstardom as immediately as I needed to, however, I was at least filled with light and hope in that my son had become a big brother, and though whatever the situation was had been something like an overshadow, I was now overjoyed and elated, with it seeming at least almost as if I myself had a newborn son, even though I would probably not ever know the child, nor did I wish to know my ex husband at all. My son's eyes showed that he looked more like me than even I remembered, and perhaps was stretching out a bit as to not be so heavily affected by his obesity, and I gleaned with pride. I would do almost anything for the money it would take to raise him myself, and make him into the beautiful young man he was meant to be—but still, even as I signed up for college open houses and readied myself to at least obtain a GED in my own name, as my other diplomas were tarnished with such a cursed name— always stricken with horrible luck using my old one, and to avoid not only confusion, but disaster. I needed and wanted complete separation and anonymity from my old life; the next chapter, it seemed, had officially begun, and now I wondered a way to allow myself to believe that I could succeed in some sort of way in entertainment. Yet, alas, I had been scorned, once again, the headlights flashing into my room and some mirrored reflection just another reminder of the disgusting world and person I had left behind, which according to this new woman, I was betting, hadn't much changed— I had cursed out ‘the industry' as a whole, and though I was inwardly still committed and dedicated as ever, ‘The Fallon Files' had consumed me, and they now needed to be hidden, if not destroyed—however, probably never destroyed, as some of my most poignant works lie within them. No, they would simply have to be re-distributed and ratified from the trainer's mark, to a series of allegories and parables—they just have had to have been written all along anyway, for whatever reason, but had been disasterously tiring, paradigm shifting, and though my admiration for the actual person, in a sense had deepened, my own almost intensively girlish stupidity intersected in perfect time with the wisdom of my womanhood, putting a quick and timely closure to the subject, moving onward, almost upset with myself that I couldn't even pretend to allow myself to fall in love with a married man, even for the sake of the art— ‘—haha' —and still at one hand, was being at odds with the others, Sonny still just as often on my mind, and Dillon though distant still a designated person of interest, however, as Joel had made his own appearance into a dream I would have never had, if not forcing myself back to sleep after yet another remembered dream about [Redacted], which upon waking up I almost thought to write down, then only deciding to mumble my mantras as I sleepily relieved my bladder, and though rather rested, opted to return back to bed, and happily so—as my dream had featured Joel almost exclusively, who it was strangely nice to see, and the dream was itself some sort of fantasy or fairytale—whisked away to some paradoxical land on some otherworldly planet which, by looking at the futuristic map, would and could not have been earth; which only alluded more and more to the circumstance of having an out of realm and multidimensional relationship with such a man, that I had been happy to be reminded of. Joel, for whatever reason, did make me happy—and even though I hadn't met him face-to-face in the waking world, (and didn't plan on doing so,) actually having abandoned entirely my hopes and dreams of actually becoming a superstar DJ, mostly jealous of the pre-teen looking always extremely skinny, white girls that the industry seemed to prioritize and put up on privileged pedestals, almost seeming as if they were hypersexualized children— However, I still did adore Joel, for what it was worth, even if what it was worth, was nothing—and it wasn't. Just a dream alone was enough to satisfy, and with that, had pushed [Redacted] so far out of my mind that I nearly danced into my waking life afterward, in some sort of a cold sweat, my heat still on as high as it could go and the weather beginning to swelter, though, I knew something was and had been wrong, as instant depression settled in almost immediately within the first few moments of being awake, and at the very very least. I had a new baseline for a dance song ringing around in my head, if only to quickly rush to my keyboard to pluck out the tune, then abandoning my Ableton for other endeavors—finding a job, so that I could cure the horrible disease of being broke in New York. It was good to at least been discouraged enough, after reading through a couple blogs, how hard it would be to become an actual screenwriter— just as I had decades before been discouraged in the same way and more than likely the same group of elites and supremacists of whatever sort, who segregated the industry, dominated it with nepotism, and kept such tight inner circles that I thought not to even bother, and considered even pulling what had been published of the festival project, in order to protect it from plagiarism. For as certain as shit, Becky and Karen were almost never original, always in charge of hiring their favorites and family members, and would always find a way to see to it that I could never get ahead of or worse—over her. Now you got two little kids That's two boys— Two bros, going “Yeah, my dad's a piece of shit” Now that's two boys goin' “Yeah, my dad hits women” Now that's two boys goin' “Well, you know we're fucking native” Now there's two kids goin' “Yeah my dad's a piece of shit' Two little boys goin' “Yeah, my dad's a piece of shit” Bet your money on a dollar That your mommy doesn't get this Betting on a dollar That you'll never be a mother, But big brother don't get it Big brother don't open his old eyes for nothing Big brother's dosing off in the corner But his mother loves him {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

02. WAFFLES. (Instrumental)

Play Episode Listen Later May 26, 2024 2:09

02. WAFFLES. Level one Level up: Go Brooklyn has a surf club (Where am I supposed to surf in Brooklyn— Coney Island? How am I supposed to surf in Coney Island There's a hydroponic needle in my hot dog That's gross (2 chainz style) If you grew up in The projects I'm sorry; You should run for governor Or the Oval Office— I would trust you to protect us -31 I'mma change the words up I want Roscoe Waffles with some syrup— Serve holdup; Guess I'm on the wrong coast On a greyhound bus, now Just to go to Roscoe's Waffles and Shrup [chicken and waffles Chicken and waffles Chicken and waffles Chicken and waffles] -Sunni Blū You expect me to go surfing in the projects Fuck is Coney Island? (Nonsense!) All the trash– (trash) and tug boats (toot toot) I can't get my surf on! I am on the wrong coast! Oh shit, it really was originally I took a flixbus just to go to… I fly Spirit Airlines, Just go to go Roscoe's Been a long time since I been in it Do my dance and trance I'm spinnin Cameras flash And I look different I make dubstep Bitch I'm [NO!] —that's like yoncè x Yoncè crosses NOTHING Got it. I don't care I got flair I'm from LA They love my hair They always stare And glaring Imm aware of them Imm Karen under All these shades I wear Chicken and some waffles Guess I'm on the wrong coast (nicki style) None of these niggaz can't rap like me; I am present; under the tree Can't lock me up, My love is free Killing this bEA Arthur T-e-a (I got a secret) Bitch I'm the best Bitch I'm bless Bitch you call me a bitch I will dismiss you Listen, kids I'm dead! Not regrets Butter, bread Suck my twists Or braid my hat But your verse sound like murder Deadmau5 forges an appearance o— Is it the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon or is it —late nights with Jimmy Fallon? I don't know. I don't care: Just— look me UP. NO, Jimmy Fallon! WHYNOT. BECAUSE, SIR, YOU ARE A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION, and therefore DONOTEXIST.. NO, YOU DONT EXIST! Not yet, anyway,.. *dissappears* Oh, the irony… [Ū/SUPACREE is invisible, and has therefore made this man— “JIMMY FALLON” “Presumably” “Presumably” We don't know! — look crazy, which isn't a good look for him, considering…] JIMMY FALLON stops short, realizing everyone has stopped shopping to stare at him. —he is famous.] TMZ (But is the dude from Lilo and stich with a camera) (Snaps photo) JIMMY FALLON [expletive] After his appearance on the talk show as Deadmau5, “JOEL ZIMMERMAN, an extraterrestrial secret agent and top level hacker, entraps THE COSMIC AVENGER, aka “JIMMY FALLON” in an inescapable void beyond the interdimensional jurisdictions, imprisoning him in an undetectable and inescapable time hol; a synthetic VOID. What. What is this. I don't know yet, what to call it actually. You look like a T-Rex. You look like ….like what? What do I look like? I don't have time for banter, Fallon. I'm a mastermind. Put me back. Can't do that. You're gonna pay for this! (Shrugs, texting in a slide out keyboard device] I'm sure I can afford it. Bye. [the device opens a portal, into which TESTPILOT disappears] So wait, why is he DEADMAU5, then JOEL, then TESTPILOT. Cause, that's just now it goes. I told you, stay away from this guy. I did! but then— HEEEEEEEYYYYYY. What. HEY, What, Jimmy Fallon? Oh, so that's what he did. TINA FEY That's it, I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill— *gasp* …Tina? WHAT. Can you see me? Barely! Who are you?! WHAT. Okay, but— Don't be so angry. (Angrily) I'M NOT ANGRY. I'M JUST STRESSED. Well, don't be. DONT TELL ME TO (She pops her stress ball—) My stress ball!! Don't worry—! (Worriedly) I'm not worried! I'm STRESSED! (Almost crying) It's okay. Don't cry *almost very ugly crying* No. Don't do that *almost even uglier ugly cry* No— *sniffs m* No— *heaves, super almost ugly-ugly* It's okay, Tina! Look I have another one! See! I DON'T WANT THAT ONE, I WANT— *goddamn, that's almost the ugliest cry* HERE. [beat] [though her biggest-ever brown eyes are welled up with tears, she sees the new ball and is instantly mezmerized] But— —just—don't cry— That looks—just like— my old one! Ta-dah! It is your old one! But! Hi! Remember me? [TINA FEY suddenly flashes back to the 90's, where she obtained her stress ball, and remembers the strange and yet kind “old woman” she once followed along her rise to success, skyrocketing her through time—the ‘great spirit' who walked with her along her rise to fame] Oh my— [the festival project] BLOG. Gazuntite. I started a BLOG. What's that mean: I don't know. We'll see. “Illuminati Dreams 103” [Tales of a Superstar DJ] Seemed as if it was some kind of movie set or backstage at a major event, or maybe both—I finally had the opportunity to be alone with Joel, so I took my first chance, massaging his back and kissing him, beginning to make love to him—then, —of course, once I started actually having sex with him, another girl cut in—she was short, extremely overweight, and dark skinned, not very pretty at all—she started talking and then said that she wanted her phone, and I got upset and told her to leave—she didn't seem too mad, and once she left I started to more passionate make love to him, now that I had him alone—then, Joel for some reason became cold, and stopped me saying “You Are Not Welcome Here”, which made me sad, but I didn't cry—he went on some kind of rant about wanting his phone, and I became annoyed that people were so worried about their phones; I let him go, but as he was leaving, still upset with me, he said something like “maybe it will work out next time around”, and I knew he meant next lifetime—I told him “it's a long life without you”, and I became extremely sad—although was glad this lifetime I had at least seen him, and though we didn't finish lovemaking I was somewhat satisfied that we at least able to love a little, and was gentle with him. I didn't blame him ‘—it must have been my OWSLA tattoo.' It's always a long life without Joel Zimmerman. I couldn't say for a fortune even how that happened—although for a fortune I might think of some kind of explanation that would go along with the way I had started to feel about this man, unfortunately and albeit, without actually knowing him beyond his music, but— [Tales of a Superstar DJ] Something really was off about Mr, and yet all was well; I was correct in that my ex husband had Formed new offspring, and even better yet, however, off of my prediction, this new woman had come to the same conclusion I had: that he simply was not fit for partnership, but at least, perhaps, parenthood would keep him working—and now, with the most recent picture of my son that I had, I was back at work, although not with the clarity as I had once had, and it did appear that indeed something was off, and had been for some time. I had left my skateboard in the gym the night before, and luckily for me, no one had taken it, and I once again began counting my blessings, knowing that I needed to move on and out of the rut I had been in—I was finally at least kind of willing to work, but only now was left the monotonous task of actually finding a job which would allow me to continue to grow in my artistry, with the unsettling understanding that I was just maybe and perhaps wasn't cut out for the luck it would take to hit superstardom as immediately as I needed to, however, I was at least filled with light and hope in that my son had become a big brother, and though whatever the situation was had been something like an overshadow, I was now overjoyed and elated, with it seeming at least almost as if I myself had a newborn son, even though I would probably not ever know the child, nor did I wish to know my ex husband at all. My son's eyes showed that he looked more like me than even I remembered, and perhaps was stretching out a bit as to not be so heavily affected by his obesity, and I gleaned with pride. I would do almost anything for the money it would take to raise him myself, and make him into the beautiful young man he was meant to be—but still, even as I signed up for college open houses and readied myself to at least obtain a GED in my own name, as my other diplomas were tarnished with such a cursed name— always stricken with horrible luck using my old one, and to avoid not only confusion, but disaster. I needed and wanted complete separation and anonymity from my old life; the next chapter, it seemed, had officially begun, and now I wondered a way to allow myself to believe that I could succeed in some sort of way in entertainment. Yet, alas, I had been scorned, once again, the headlights flashing into my room and some mirrored reflection just another reminder of the disgusting world and person I had left behind, which according to this new woman, I was betting, hadn't much changed— I had cursed out ‘the industry' as a whole, and though I was inwardly still committed and dedicated as ever, ‘The Fallon Files' had consumed me, and they now needed to be hidden, if not destroyed—however, probably never destroyed, as some of my most poignant works lie within them. No, they would simply have to be re-distributed and ratified from the trainer's mark, to a series of allegories and parables—they just have had to have been written all along anyway, for whatever reason, but had been disasterously tiring, paradigm shifting, and though my admiration for the actual person, in a sense had deepened, my own almost intensively girlish stupidity intersected in perfect time with the wisdom of my womanhood, putting a quick and timely closure to the subject, moving onward, almost upset with myself that I couldn't even pretend to allow myself to fall in love with a married man, even for the sake of the art— ‘—haha' —and still at one hand, was being at odds with the others, Sonny still just as often on my mind, and Dillon though distant still a designated person of interest, however, as Joel had made his own appearance into a dream I would have never had, if not forcing myself back to sleep after yet another remembered dream about [Redacted], which upon waking up I almost thought to write down, then only deciding to mumble my mantras as I sleepily relieved my bladder, and though rather rested, opted to return back to bed, and happily so—as my dream had featured Joel almost exclusively, who it was strangely nice to see, and the dream was itself some sort of fantasy or fairytale—whisked away to some paradoxical land on some otherworldly planet which, by looking at the futuristic map, would and could not have been earth; which only alluded more and more to the circumstance of having an out of realm and multidimensional relationship with such a man, that I had been happy to be reminded of. Joel, for whatever reason, did make me happy—and even though I hadn't met him face-to-face in the waking world, (and didn't plan on doing so,) actually having abandoned entirely my hopes and dreams of actually becoming a superstar DJ, mostly jealous of the pre-teen looking always extremely skinny, white girls that the industry seemed to prioritize and put up on privileged pedestals, almost seeming as if they were hypersexualized children— However, I still did adore Joel, for what it was worth, even if what it was worth, was nothing—and it wasn't. Just a dream alone was enough to satisfy, and with that, had pushed [Redacted] so far out of my mind that I nearly danced into my waking life afterward, in some sort of a cold sweat, my heat still on as high as it could go and the weather beginning to swelter, though, I knew something was and had been wrong, as instant depression settled in almost immediately within the first few moments of being awake, and at the very very least. I had a new baseline for a dance song ringing around in my head, if only to quickly rush to my keyboard to pluck out the tune, then abandoning my Ableton for other endeavors—finding a job, so that I could cure the horrible disease of being broke in New York. It was good to at least been discouraged enough, after reading through a couple blogs, how hard it would be to become an actual screenwriter— just as I had decades before been discouraged in the same way and more than likely the same group of elites and supremacists of whatever sort, who segregated the industry, dominated it with nepotism, and kept such tight inner circles that I thought not to even bother, and considered even pulling what had been published of the festival project, in order to protect it from plagiarism. For as certain as shit, Becky and Karen were almost never original, always in charge of hiring their favorites and family members, and would always find a way to see to it that I could never get ahead of or worse—over her. Now you got two little kids That's two boys— Two bros, going “Yeah, my dad's a piece of shit” Now that's two boys goin' “Yeah, my dad hits women” Now that's two boys goin' “Well, you know we're fucking native” Now there's two kids goin' “Yeah my dad's a piece of shit' Two little boys goin' “Yeah, my dad's a piece of shit” Bet your money on a dollar That your mommy doesn't get this Betting on a dollar That you'll never be a mother, But big brother don't get it Big brother don't open his old eyes for nothing Big brother's dosing off in the corner But his mother loves him {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

[The Princess and The Pea]

Play Episode Listen Later May 26, 2024 28:36

‘…is that a threat?' ‘Hm…' If it was, it was at least a good one— I was scared, at first, upon seeing what I had thought to be perhaps a package robbery—but was actually just a slit through the package—a clean slice, more specifically, through the bubble wrapped [Redacted] package, however, its contents still inside; The package had been left underneath another—which didn't belong to me, and though I had been cornered by security more than once at the [Redacted] market, for putting my nutritional needs above that of my morality—or rather, thought my morlity to exclude guilt from the nessecities, especially as I often pondered upon the elite had kept the lower classes in a devolved state by controlling the price of wellness, so much so that it had become impractical for the common being. I had never even thought to swipe someone else's mail—a personal foul, and at least in turn in that matter to all respect with karma, had never had any packages stolen, either—not that I had lived indoors long enough to have warranted that I was safe from what sometimes seemed like the non-human animals, especially of New York City, who crawled about the lower realms littering and taking up precious time, space, and energy—the almost less-than-common man, but still, actually and unfortunately—common, especially in New York. The Sage sticks and palo santo I had ordered were still intact, entirely— to my surprise, and I wondered what else my package might have included, without remembering such. I had become enfuriated with [Redacted], after realizing that there had been hidden charges and unrecognizable fees, on my credit card, of all the places—the Capital One credit card, with sky high interest rates and robotic customer service drones—who I mostly would hate talking to— and it seemed as though the [Redacted] algorithm had become just as predatory as the rest of them—as uncivilized as the trash-dropping, coughing subhumans that plagued the post-pandemic world, if there was such a thing. The overcrowded mess and overall pollution of the city at whole at best made it still acceptable to wear masks in public, to which I took full advantage of doing, as needed—which was as often as possible, actually, if not to hide the curiosities, and of course, the objections to whatever it would be on the train that sparked distaste—worst yet, I might even smile, and reveal my gap-tooth, only acceptable on Hurley models and Madonna, of course—either of whom I wished I was. It was 3:16 AM, and a long lost song found its way into my head as I fettered the words into the document, multitasking a “modest” breakfast as I mulled over the day, most of which I had spent attempting peace and solitude, neither of which actually even seemed attainable in my 3rd floor “office”, being so careful not to consider anything home or a comfort, for the fear that whatever Death curse someone had thought to m destroy me with once would extend into all the years and all the realms of my presence— it was true, as I explained to my aunt, that the people around me had within the last few years turned into demonic and vampiric advocates of what seemed to be the devil itself, were I even holy enough to be considered sacred in such a way that the devil may be chasing me—and I was, in some ways, but not in others—my ability to aggrandize my judgements and flex my morality where needed, but less when wanted as it stood true that I never actually enjoyed immorality—I hated living in a world where one would be made to steal, and made to lie, in order to survive. But that, for 30 years is where I had lived; in, for the most part, an evil world, ruled by man, as he denied and tortured all things that would be thought to be God—in his thirst for whatever it was that had waged a world of war. It seemed as though someone were sending a message, and it had been years since I had felt safe or comfortable anywhere, anyway—so I thought it best not to care, knowing that all in all, that the intentional hurt and harm done to me by any man, or any entity otherwise, would prove to l invoke the karmic justice law unto itself; that whatever pain I experienced would be amplified by its giver, and reflected back—that anyone who intended to hurt or kill me—would only hurt or kill themselves in doing so. At the very least, I was inspired to continue writing the script which I had drifted from entirely—its contents and its driver too mad to be palpable, however—as sometimes this kind of magic did occur in flashes at random, with vivid visions as if I were watching—or even living inside of the scene itself, spoke volumes that it should—or would, whether I wanted it or not, be written eventually. ‘Man, fuck Jimmy Fallon.' I knew nothing of the man at all besides his name and occupation, and that something had plastered him permanently into my mind with some kind of irreparable cement I could not seem to break lose or free from—and it was going to stay that way. The entirety of the festival project and all I had been prompted to have written had become a massive headache. I have a massive headache. UGH. Perhaps it was more multidimensionally attributed to the fact that I had been fawning over affordable razorblazes—I had been almost salivating at the thought of bleeding from my wrists—a constant pressure from the lack of things I wanted and needed piling up at my doorstep, my overdue bills, and the harrowing and what seemed like *manacle. Hm. A maniacle attack on my sanity, not actually practitioned by my abuser, but probably more likely the government, masquerading as such to plot and plan around various secret expirimentation, which would of course within the century become common knowledge, but as for such time we're simply conspiracies, perhaps to hide the shameful loss which was the war being fought with technology—which the dumbing down and brainwashing of millions had left us at an extreme risk, and those were were not at risk, with extreme bias against that which they had no ability or interest to understand. Unremarkably so, I was still astonished that something did indeed seem to have happened—something that was not in my head at all, but rather, very much outside of it—and it was beginning to occur to me that perhaps others had gained an interest in what indeed seemed to be attacking me, for years, by then, with fear, humiliation, and detriment—to which I could only ever think to fight with white magic; there was a controlled chaos to what seemed like my being at a wits end, which I was, but also wasn't—for the most part, at least in public, I could take even the most outrageous offenses poignantly and tactfully, however sometimes realizing that—in Keisha having left her sunglasses behind, she had also left with them a little bit of Harlem— “Move.” The mindless drone controlled robots often stepped directly into my path, as if being driven by some force which was meant to annoy or some other way terrorize me—however, I had grown accustomed to new York's overall rudeness, and had become almost socially inept..speaking of Just—socially unacceptable. What is this?! Gross. What is this?! Papaya juice. Is this a fucking—?! No it's a v8 My G-Wagon! Nice. Got it painted. What color even is that? It's like— mauve. MOVE. FUCKING-A. Jesus Christ. One time, The white devil appeared as a fucked up Edie Falco// And I was so fed up-to-here With The Bullshit, That I didn't even care what happened if I — MOVE OUT OF MY WAY: OR WHAT?! Damn, Mrs. Soprano, you look rough. Are you sure that's not just JACKIE. WHAT. That's the way Uh huh Uh huh I like it Uh huh Uh huh Schools out— Party with my friends! school's out! I'm a genie in a bottle, You gotta rub me the right way! I been too strong, for too long And I can't be without you baby! Is that all of them? Probably not: So mix, then, Probably not. Well Why not?! Because My Serato's been acting horrible. Tommy looked what I would learn to be like a be exact replica of 1988 Tom Cruise. Which reminds me… The 1987 Tom Cruise* is murdered by Supacree's jealous stalker, in a fit of rage, which spirals all known aliases and timelines into a terrible and chaotic nightmare, as Wait, what. I'm just being honest, I don't know how to write this. Here, let me help. YO. wtf. Should have had a V8! SPLASH, BITCH. WHERE's MY SHIIT, JIMMY? It's gone, I broke it. You what. It's missing; I broke it. What do you mean. AHAHA. Oh, I see what you mean, now. Yeah, that guy is different. [The amethyst shatters.] NOH. Woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_l GOLD. IT IS GOLDEN. THE ORB. What. The orb. It has chosen you. Uh. Oka. Who the fuck are these creatures—?! “Creetures” I love them. They are darling They are cute. Man, fuck with your bullshit—. —Stay in fucking— Where ever that's at! This is “Queens” Well, it's disgusting. GET LOST. Get lost HOW. Everything's on a grid system! FUCK. I lost it, Damn. Dang. Well, wanna play again? Nah, that's it. What?! Come on. No, seriously. I'm done. Wait, what are you doing? *pulls out rifle* WOAH. WOAH. You should go now. What is that, It's a gun, obviously. What the fuck, man! A rifle, actually, more specifically— What—why—what are you gonna do with that thing? I'm gonna shoot myself: ano— YES. In the head— Don't do that; And you, if you don't get out— Wait! Right now. *aims* Okay! Ah shit, this is getting serious: It s seriously like dick-deep in pussy in here right now. Nay: Maybe we should GO. Hello. M— Maybe we should stay: What! I like her. Get off my property. This is-/ This is MINE. I own this: This one's Mine! Oh, this is what they mean by “ecstatic dance” Actually, my feet are just coldX… Wait, hold on. Before you go off on a tangent about— mm— What is that I don't know what that is. U don't know what it is Look, I wanted that to be Dillon's baby so bad— (So did he) HAHAHAHA. I will end u Oh, baby, there's only one way you could ever do that. Everyone Thrrr she is. She's back! Aaaaaannnyyyeaaaayy— Please explain to us what's happening in this movie. Which movie The Tom Cryise one, Cause there can only be one Tom Cruise one Because Tom cruise is Tom Cruise. Wait. What. TOM HANKS YOU FORGOT MY NAME BRIEfLY YES, but also— That's WHY, this happened. TOM CRUISE I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU-/ You STUPID BITC— Look — I gotta — Oh wait, that still works. What?! You fucked that guy too?! NO. I just. This is a lot of space. Well yeah, we're like—astronauts. How did you get this all in your loft? MAJOR TOM. ALRIGHT. I GOT IT. AHAHAHSJSJHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO MORE ECID. YAYAYAY. Whrrereeeeeeeeeeeeeee Wherereere in my miiiiiiiiind. Fuck I gotta buy that album….again I know I bought it once. dang. Youre cute, I know, huh. Buy me this Ok. [Beyoncé is not yet back with the coffee.] Deja Vu, Beyoncé Uh oh, uh oh— Uh oh! OHNONO ^ Matumbo AIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGHHHHHHH. Crazy in love— also Beyonce? Destiny's ChildrenS HAHAHA OK. FUCK YOU, DILLON FRANCIS. DEADMAU5 IS A WAY BETTER CONTROLLER *HEAPING GASP* YOU—TAKE THAT BACK. I WOULDNT. I will END YOU. YOU CANNOT. Where the fuck is that lady from? Oh, there she is! Pity! Oh dear! She's NEGROID: Shh, tisk-tisk. [ANNE HATHAWAY dabbed tf out.] Come on Annie! Get up! [she is not getting up] THINK OF THE KIDSz *nope* UGH. WASTED. That sucks! We gotta get her back in that princess movie before everything dies and we all collapse! Which princess movie is it?! Idk! Fuck this bitch! She's like all the princesses! KEKE Palmart* Sure! KEKE PALMER will be playing the PRINCESS from princess and the frog Put the princess—IN—the frog! NO. PUT THE PRINCESS IN THE— AGHHHH. PUT DILLON FRANCIS, BACK IN THE OVEN. NO Ugh. He's so heavy! He's not gonna fit. He WILL fit: NO: SAY UNCLE. ASHEJEBEB SAY IT. AAAAANNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKHHHH [a giant Ankh falls from the sky] Yo. That cannot be a good sign. I think it's not. SUBTRONICS *rips bong* Hey! You made it! Way, way late: Nice! Yes. Why are you naked? I don't know. SOLEÏL. Fuck, man. Wizardrddd! What is this game?! I dunno, but I just keep playing it. This shit says. This does say. This shit says ballsacks. I don't get kids these days “Ballsacks” Is that like, a good thing? Depends who's saying NEY-WHINNY-NEY-WHINNY-NEEEE Horse: ok, I win: JOHNNY DEPP literally cannot speak. Because he is not intoxicated. At all. lol someone help him, seriously. Ok, keep going. All the DISNEY CHANNEL KIDS are WILD ‘N OUT Which is ironic because— NICK CANNON Yep, Oh look, it's me again… NICK CANNON Look, the Nickelodeon Cult— What; I mean— The Illuminati just called, They want their stuff back. What STUFF. SAY IT. NEVER THAT. SAY MY NAMEs PASSWORD FALLON, YOU FUCKING HACK. oh, I'm a ‘hack' now that's— “Haha” Who's laughing?! You should be crying right about now. I'm an actor. Very funny. Tears of a clown. Shut up: I am crying, on the inside. -_- Sit down, dipshit: Ooh, now I'm dip— *cocks pistol* Shit, I thought you couldn't— Oh no, this part of the series gets pretty— You're in deep fucking shit; [JIMMY FALLON sits calmly at his desk, he scoops some “sugar” into his coffee and stirs, seemingly emotionless.] CUT TO DANCE BREAK. I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas, please CUT TO: Texas border patrol holding cell. DIPLO (In a stupid ass cowboy hat) m *jail door slams* AH, COME ON. Fold 'em, let 'em hit me, raise it, baby, stay with me (I love it) I thought it was… “A little gambling is fun when you're with me” (I love it.) Maybe it WAS. What year was that anyway? Idk. What year was any year before [Lyrics Genius] Flashback: The 2000's Rewind it again. What did she just say? Idk. What did he say? Damn. Fuck, I missed it. Love game intuition, play the cards with spades to start THE ACE OF SPAAAAAAADES. Okay. Fine. He wants to be Satan? He's Satan. Yo, that's— SATAN. [Skrillex is Satan] Yeah, but he's so fucking cute. Supacree, what are you doing? BRB, I'm gonna go fuck this lil ass [censored] Damn. Ok. S/he does not fuck around, that guy. Yeah, that guy. And after he's been hooked, I'll play the one that's on his heart I guess we'll just have to… wait till they play it on the radio again… / Wait till the next rave. fuck. MIXTAPES. GETCHUR MIXTAPES. La da da Dee da da duh duhhh La da da Dee da daaaah da duuuuuum La da da da de da La da da da Dee da Da da Dee da da da da dum Okay, Google, let's see what you got. I got—Reddit.. r/NameThatSong 5 yr. ago Surprentis Join Can't figure out this song. Looking for help hey you guys remember that song from back in the day that went "la da dee da da da daaaa, la da dee da da da daaaaa, ah la da dee daaa da la daa dee daaa daa daa dee daa da daaa da daaaaa" i feel like it was on night at the roxbury maybe im wrong.. uh, ok— wtf is “night at the Roxbury” …Google? GOOGLE Here: you'll like this. Oh shit, ‘98 … FINALLY. JESUS CHRIST. Holy shit, you were on SNL in 1998?! Yes. How the fuck old are you? Jesus Christ! JESUS CHRIST …not as old as me. [but everyone's still mad as fuck at Jesus for eating all of the pizza] wtf, man: Just— inhaled it. *gnarf* Actually, you know what: Just stay—celibate: Oh check it out. THIS lady only shows up if I— *squints* if you what: Nothing. Nothing. ANNNNNNNE. GET. UP. She's not gonna go. She's dead bro. I'm not dead! YES! oh! She's up! YES *barfs*! [instantly back asleep] —m— That's it We're fucked. Disney's gonna kill us. The Illuminati's gonna kill us! Disney is the Illuminati. Yeah, but like—for kids. THIS IS NOT FOR KIDS. THIS IS NOT FOR KIDS. KIDS AVERT YOUR EYES, CHILDREN! All sixteen pairs of them! wtf who has that many kids Eight fucking kids, bro. ^_- ok, I like her. Yeesss. Ya. Imm drunk. K. gargle! Nah! GARGLE, RIGHT NOW OR I'll wash your mouth with soap! [pulls gun] THATS NOT SOAP. MY GUN'S NAME IS “SOAP” Shit, why are there so many guns in this shit?! Because Skrillex is like, Cartel, or whatever. And like—the Bloods. ☠️ And the Crips, probably, also— Like I said, He is Satan. GET OVER HERE AND- SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOTTTT: I got nothin. What: I got// Zero scenes You got no scene, broh? No scenes. None? Zip. None? Zero. Woah. Hold up. will— uh— “powers” Ferrel—like an animal that won't shut up, or something? Will bite you—may be rabid— Feral? You mean? Sure; whatever.d Just, stop talking, How the fuck do you do the same movie— like— infinitely. Recap: every will ferret* Sure! EVERY WILL FERRELL MOVIE IS ULTIMATELY... They're all the same movie! GET UP, After waking up in a hungover/still intoxicated rage, Anne Hathaway causes a showdown worthy of historical proportions, which concludes with her legendary “yeet” of a mysterious object of extra planetary origin—this initiates round two of the party which never should have happened, and almost never ended. In another parallel cross dimension: Irl JIMMY FALLON and Ū are imaginary friends; rather, Ū is a figment of JIMMY FALLON's imagination and vice-versa—this scene pays homage to Wilfred; they share stories with one another as they pass the bong/blunt in a solid back-to-back rotation, making the tragic stories they are telling almost hilarious, but only because they are so generously stoned. —_— So wait, he like— *passes blunt* —Here, take this— —Yeah— *passes bong* —Just switch me— Yee. So he like—“yeeted” your baby? He Yeeted my baby. *blowing out, coughing* That's not supposed to happen. No, it is not. Here, switch me. *switch* *rips* *shaking head in stoniness* [beat] So like— *rips bong* —you're like, Ū, so— You're like… I'm like, everybody. Right? Yeah. Yeah! I'm Ū, dawg. That is a cool name. Is—a cool name *hits blunt* Here, switch me— *rips bong* Is—not—a cool power to have. I bet not, though. You would imagine I wouldn't, that's in—coughs—sane. It is insane: cover your mouth: Sorry. No you're not, So how are you not like— Like what? I'm Ū, there what// So how are you not like— Seth McFarle—uhh Seth McFarlen lol *e What Uh, I am. SETH MCFARLENE No you're not, I'm right here. *suddenly not stoned* What the FUCK man: Woah, Seth McFarlene. HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY OFFICE. I walked in. That's boss status. What the fuck! I locked it! You did not. I walked in—like right behind you guys You probably forgot… You—I forgot— He forgot to lock The Rock lol stop Walk it out, Now walk it out // Walk it like I talk it Talk it like I RUN BITCH RUN FLORIST, RUN!!! Lmfao. Ok. CUT BACK TO: You probably forgot, dude. Alright, Seth McFarlene. Just—*hits blunt* stop talking . Load another bowl Giggity! *passes blunt* You want this? No, I'm straight. Are you, though? What?! Yeah, I'm— I mean, l'm good on the— You know what? Fuck it, gimmie that. Yee. Sauce. [there is a knock at the door] Welp, I gotta go. [Jimmy Fallon is suddenly alone in his office, with a blunt in one hand and a bong in the other. The lights automatically shut off; the coffee maker brings brewing automatically—-three more knocks at the door.] *sighs* [explitive] CUT TO: That fucking rager Is it day?! Is it night?! We don't know! It's been months, probably Weeks, at best— But all we actually know about this time and place is that— The HATTER is here. For fucks SAKE. GIVE ME ANOTHER BEER, SOMEBODY. ANYBODY. lol Johnny Del*. Sure JOHNNY DEPP is drinking Duh *beer?! Uh huh That's all we have, man. *light beers I'MMM BUZZZZZED LIGHTYEAR BUUUUUUUZZXXXED LIGHTYEARR no, Tim Allen, not yet. Fuck, on that note Now I know why THERES A SNAKE IN MY BOOT yeah there is! Ok, ew Ok, gross Stop ew Stop Ew. Cut lil blonde Hot as Finneas O' Connell Possible homosexual, but god love him Cause I'm hungry Lookin for lunch Somebody as scrunches Pull up and crunches Cause my monster is Lookin to Humpty Dumpty Fuck, I forgot Rosie O'Donnal! I cant get no Satiafaftion— The Rolling Stones What's wrong, Saint Jimmy? Luscius? What is it. Precious would like to see you. Oh. The prince Lucius hasn't left his chamber in days—however, as his brother Percius has just returned from war, he quickly emerges from his resting place, an alter of sorts. Damn, I'm getting a headache. I almost never have headaches. It was true, and of course, as I started to write about this prince and his so said brother, Lucius and Perseus, I was reminded once more of Athens, where I had just been however briefly, in a short astral trip of sorts, wandering about in the dreamworld, looking for something or someone in place of my pillow to hold. Did you want to walk to Trader Joe's? I mean, kind of, but no. My muscles were sore and I had just spent some two hours in the gym, not on purpose but quite by accident, though only having run just under two miles, though at least uphill, and spending the rest of the time lifting—I had been bound to mostly beans and rice, and so however was bloated and gassy, quite slow and not as strong, my regular protein just out of reach… Dang. I have so much to fucking so today. I hadn't realized that somehow it was Saturday, although just a couple days before had been a Wednesday that felt like Sunday, and now again time was all out of sorts; it was a “holiday” weekend, and I was without a doubt, drowning in my own having-to-do's, and as such, weekends and days off were entirely not a thing, besides in ways that those bustled around me—and I was sure that some days had been lost, as I was planning to visit the food bank on Friday, but had somehow skipped over the end of the week entirely—somehow, that is, and I was sure sometimes that in skipping days, meditating and fasting about, however intermittently, that time itself shuffled in all the ways I had, between cross dimensions and parallels such as I—I had been hovering somewhere between the 6th and. 10th dimensions, for the most part, and none with having to understand the undoubted shifts in my own perception of time that were bound to happen, as I sprawled across the astral plains looking and searching for a sign that the tragic poverty, restlessness, and lack of peace wound end. Bound to your alter, my dear brother? Aye. So perhaps here there was another unfounded kingdom within the realm of Ascencia—Lucius, a prince, and Percius—seemingly slated the King, and yet I had unreached such a conclusion as to assimilate an entirely factionrd world, as of yet. What did you write last night? Uh…I don't know. Well, let's see Something had shaken me from my almost-sleep, laying sprawled across my bed, in the middle of the mattress, rather than to either side, which was rare; I typically preferred the left side of the mattress, anyway, but as I waited to launder my bedding, after a sweaty and sweltering almost summer day of lounging, smothered in shea butter and lasidasicly scrawling about what recordings had been buried in my phone, between the collection of books I had practically all found in the streets of New York and the rising temperatures of the tepid summer weather, my room was starting to smell funny—and without being able to burn sage anymore, for fear of being thrown back into the streets like a dog, I with every hope in the world figured that washing my thick bedding, comforter included, would restore the crisp and rigid, almost factory clean that I found satisfactory. Songs buzzed in and out of my head as if I hadn't enough already much to do—and still, I added into my growing pile of notes and mounds of work, even more songs—this time, The Rolling Stones. I can't get no Satisfaction… …but I try— —and I try— —and I try— And I try! I can't—get no—! God, I wish I could write something like that. The rock Gods had at the very least been accompanying me, and in a certain sense, so had the Gods at The Rock; I had been forced up out of my dormant state by a voice which urged me away from my near sleep—I had been up since six AM and it was something past midnight, and still the voice said— “Get up and write!” And though I had words tinkering around in my head like little coins in some sort of metal box, none of them quite made so much since that I had to get up and write—however, still the voice, though not angry, but firm, insisted. The voice, for once, sounded female— a welcome change, and though I had become quite fond of males in general, in the solemnly celibate sense, it was a difference and yet none at all— a voice of wisdom had projected itself at me, and as I dragged myself about, reaching for a notebook and flipping through the pages, finding that the notebook was practically full… ‘great, more shit to do' I held the words that had tinkered around in my mind like little whispers until I found a page to make them full formed, and the words which fell into my hand as scriptured by the pen—my favorite writing utensil, nearly out of its cherishable gel ink, danced upon the page nearly on its own, channeling the words written as such: Once prosperous to throw The stone asunder Glisten whispers of water Tears of al tears |ter| Of the altar, For follow for fello, A felon of Antigone Grace, with shield A tattered tail, So flew with feathered Phoenix ? Feared, Foreshadowed not, Agreed upon however, Was the velvet woven path of us, So honored in her fortress . Yeah, something about Rockefeller plaza. Well there were all these hooded figures in like weird, brown velvet robes— That's true, I saw that. Yeah, I was there, You WHAT, Look what I got. Fuck me, man. You know, there's a lot more to this story. I was hoping so, but however also, hoping not. Man, Jimmy fallon's wife is super hot. Gee! Yeah man, she's so cute. W0W. I like her, They're Gods. I think they're Gods. yuh. What else did I write? There was something else? What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Somethin. Yeah. The pages of the notebook were all full, something of a book of shadows and protection spells I had used in an attempt to ward off my ex husband—how of course, that they were done with, I should very well have been jotting them into with all the notes, into the documents—later to burn them, unable to afford the parchment book I wanted. For what a withered wa t would call and honor m for fortunes duty, Glorified wherein in am shadows, Cast upon reflections in redacted incantations and enchantments, foreword come, theone who waits Believing darkness be his fate Whatever, man. Fuck Jimmy Fallon. If you really feel that way! I feel a lot of ways. Well, don't. I'm so, so hungry… So, so lonely… So, so fuckin broke. Man—I learned all this dumb ass magic just to protect myself from this guy, and all this still happens! I think it's just Satan. [Satan Appears] Man— she is JACKED. Try this one. Flllow me, boy! Uh— okay. I'm staying single forever. Don't look at me. That's my girl. Don't look at me. What the fuck. Stop looking at her: Don't look at me! Men are hopeless. Fuck dude, like, the worst thing imaginable is that this Jimmy Fallon dude actually hates me so much for this— What? Uh oh. And is so fucking powerful. He is. A very, very powerful. Well, what is it! We don't— know. *gasps* He's a— SHHHHHH. [Redacted] Well, that's not doing much, is it? Seriously, just kill yourself again. Might have to! Fuck, why do all these robot demons SMELL like him? Satan? Yep. Satan ?! I'm— Seriously, save him. Seriously, God really loves Jimmy Fallon— (He's one of my favorites.) Favorite what's?! Just—favorites. Damn. This is getting to be like Greek Theatre. Great. Now everybody's gonna fucking die. It could be a comedy. Holy shit, yeah— This has mad good production value. I love it! Strange shit I just did give my OWSLA tat a kiss Smile for the camera, Pageantry of mattresses, A master of the MagicIan's chance at Chancellors dance, Look at Harrison trance Can I run a mile for President? A toy chest, A boy, just Obama I'm so much older Been through such trauma What the Willy wonka I should apply for Harvard New York over Boston So Columbia or Juliard I wish Son of a bitch, this is tragic I'm too old for scholarship Diploma's in another name I just got protective orders on I should start over But the world war is another Trump drama My Amazon cart is full of karma What you want from God? A trophy husband, Let's call him Oscar -undefeated. All this is weird I think imm married to the music Think of growing a beard Opening a beer And getting out of here All of my fears is Mommy dearest mommy dearest All of my hell is A body Imm a seed in a forest Been buried Bipolar, Supposedly, So tell me, Faery; How could I love you The way I I do If my mood We're atabilized My blu life Gave me blue eyes Clean tub of water I don't belong here It's too late for me too Swapping Vogue for the People My people who hate me But I been so played, The hatred betrays me I walk both ways Down a one way street {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god love jesus christ new york death texas president children new york city donald trump google disney man rock men talk walk gold wild holy satan songs strange gods run beyonce schools queens reddit mine tears shit saturday night live rolling stones smile fuck tom cruise athens smell johnny depp bound bitch gross shut sake precious magicians copyright mixtape load sopranos sauce nah get up illuminati soap splash bipolar fold wasted jimmy fallon deja vu welp dang cartel trader joe diploma anne hathaway rewind rockefeller hm duh hurley pity tim allen capital one idk redacted keke palmer bloods im m gee feral glorified skrillex keisha zip orb lookin feared get lost jacked crips v8 somethin lucius aye wilfred lmfao papaya yee dillon francis say it perseus roxbury fuck you hatter major tom pageantry brb ankh noh oka he will faery shhhhhh chancellors greek theatre gargle ferrel owsla i got it ahaha my amazon end you

[CC's Lament] From {Enter The Multiverse: Legends} Soundtrack

Play Episode Listen Later May 21, 2024 3:21

I been telepathically programming bitches To mimick this addictive obsession with [Expletive] If anything just to hop up on his dicks in Get his attention And end his Ahem Apparently awful//awesome marriage edits in multidimensions, for the unmentionable shit that might just hit too close to home, for some What Be a parent to your son, They said I said, Hey, man I'm just a dear old dad with bad habits It's a trap, you know! You can't trust us bitches I took pictures of this bitches ass To put on top of the dead presidents Hell yes, I said Get dressed man, It isn't hygienic, All that shit we just did, Remember? I live in a trash can! (It's a dumpster but) [IT's actually really nice in here, what the fuck] Damn, alright what is that Idk #RIPJImmyFallon I was fasting like a maniac when that hashtag happened You just can't come back from that, You just can't ever Get back to the dad joke The man told. That pulled you out of that last fast, Like I did From that man whole! FLAGPOLE FLAGPOLE —what? OHFD. *OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. -The Rock And The Kite As told by Who's that guy Uh. TESTPILOT. I need some sages And stages And sages in this bitch! I need some Pages and Playlists and Paiges in this bitch It just goes On an on for days, This just gets crazy in this bitch Can't say Expletives because peacock is paying for this bitch! Nevermind, Lets just do Netflix? Pass. Amazon Prime? This costs too much for us I'll do this : every dime I own, Will go straight up your but I Is that an innuendo for ‘anal.plug' No, don't be gross! But I'm supposed to be gross (Going back and forth with Alec Baldwin) You win. Win WHAT You're the best. All your brothers are the off-awkward versions of you. *YES*. 30+ Rock ID please. Here you go. Sorry. No go. What do you mean. We're 21. I'm actually 23, but. No can do. This lounge is 30 Plus 30 PLUS? WHATTHEPLUG. Yup. Sorry kiddos. I'mfilthyDRUNK. I'm an ADULT. Pfft. That's what you think. Are you serious!? Serious as a heart attack; which, I'm at higher risk of actually having, Because I'm allowed in here. So Consider yourself lucky! PSH! I could have a heart attack if I want to! PSHH. PSHHHHHHHH. Hold your liquor, punk! I'll hold you—all night long!I —see you in like a decade! PSSSHSHUTUP. Shh. C'mon, lets go. Apparently, though According to some voice inside, He's miserable I call it insertinct* Or psychic inclinations, But perhaps that just my Hormonal fluctuations And high hopes to open up a portal And jump into some Seriously self deprecating behavior, Or some other alien shit Who the fuck can say, anyway You can't say any of these things publicly -1And actually expect to get away with them. You're just an asshole, That's a whole ass scandal waiting to happen I'll just light a candle and pray about it “God will work it out,” I said I'll just keep working out Avoiding bread, and figure out how to get out of debt Maybe crowdfunding? Somebody wake him up, yet? Nope, nothin. Mm. Poptarts. That's why I called it “The Allegory of [Redacted]” after all He's practically infinite except for That part And-1 That's that nigga! Are you sure. Fuck yeah, JIMMY FALLOn(s) Fuck you, dude. SUNNI BLU (shrugging) Whatever. All they played was Fallon in the pen, bro. Really? YeahYeah. And Sesame Street. And he even on THAT mo'fucker. Aight.Aight. you want ‘em. I got ‘em. Straight shot? Straight and clean. Aight, then. Well, alright then. [JIMMY FALLON is shot in a driveby.] “First Person Shooter” First person shooter is a live action open world game where. {BLAT} OH NO. AHAHA. Wait. The guns are REAL? The whole world's in slow motion. Nobody's supposed to know this kind of stuff, you know— Nobody's supposed to go there –I hope she doesn't post or publish this anywhere. Sure, that's what they all say, But hey, you could never love me anyway I'm on my way up I'm on my way up to Heaven Fuck this It's just this shit Over and over again All for the sake of the artform, All of up in arms, No comfort non conformist, With no money and no hopes left, Just a bunch of Too much, conscious And time on her hands Shes got One hand on the gun Underworld The other on the Trigger Which means Each hand has a gun in it Gun in it Gun in it EXT. MEXICO. DAY [Crying inconsolably in a hammock] COSMIC AVENGER (as a bird) I WILL AVENGE THIS!!!!! Man, I miss that bird, I wonder if he ever sings “I miss that girl” Gosh, he followed me everywhere I loved to hear him there, Even when I moved, He found me Must have been God in that bird Must have been God on that mountain talking some shit about Jimmy Fallon –That was a long fast. (The fucking longest) My veins, they ached At least a week, I think Some haloed being, Urging me to urgently just spill the blood for sweet relief, Wavering, I needed something Soothing, pleading Leaning in my weakness Back and forth , And that was when The fascination displayed With affection the affliction of infliction and in reflection of James turned Patrick Her turned to the successor He returned up to the surface The servitor became the alter After all and only in ever after The Procter, A doctor astonished him In neverland, somewhere beyond Asension Where the story starts and ends, Here. Oh man. This Jimmy Fallon dude is gonna fucking hate me Who is that again? I don't fucking know, honestly. Hello, John. Woah. Don't open this box. Okay. woah , this just came in crystal clear.. [A young and disheveld looking, tired young man turns on the television; Some sort of special, hosted by a popular commedienne and actress sparks his interest almost magnetically, and even seems to call to him.] Why, Hello, Jim. I'm–I'm Jim. Well, you're James. I am James! For now, actually. Well, forever, actually… Wtf is this. This is a parallel dimension, I guess, where everything that happened to me, just happens to this guy, and I'm— wait , who are you then. I'm glad you're watching this. Wait, who are you? I'm you! I–doubt that. Don't. Huh! Fuck, that's when I started wondering about– HEY. What the fuck, man. Did we ever figure out Jimmy Fallon's Skrillex? Not…yet, but… No. No. no. NO. It's not like i've tried to. You see, As they say This Fallon Is the front man for a larger operation at hand Hold onto your hat kids, Here comes the axe, Have your heads ready To get disconnected at the neck, Cause this shit gets NECK- BREAK. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH Crazy. No political affiliations, ever! Your inattention to the deficit, the prerequisite Inquizitive kid, this one A wizard at this, that He waxes and waxes off, Smokes with his left hand And slaps the shit out of that oncoming diaster with his right SLAP. AaaaaaaYY. That's for–the bike incident. Okay. alright, Fallon. You win. That's fucking right, and I'm gonna keep winning. Now get your shit together. Oh. And stop calling me Fallon; My name's Patrick. What is WRONG with him (I'm doing this method) I don't think this dude is eligible to play this character at all, but i'll just dedicate it to him— He is devistatingly attractive, and apparently super-professional so, Of course They had to hire him for SNL, but also…. THIS SHIT NEVER ENDS, DOES IT? NOPE. MORE CORNBREAD? AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAAAA YES PLEASE. his punctuality is perfect; His punchlines, astounding In actuality, he's kind of an asshole Abandoned Catholosism for entertainment It's just engrained in him to be deranged, Rearranged his images for campaigns against hatred Hey, lets save this for another lesson, Okay, kids? The worst part is I think i'm a genius The other worst part is, Nobody can read this The other worst part Is the worst part of all I got words But no money to dream with It's just sequences of sequence Beyoncé dancing with coffee The plot thins and gets thick again Cause my budget alternates between ketogenics and cost-effective carb days My neighborhood's getting worse It's covered in trash and littered with ignorant [explitive] Motorists interrupting arcadian rhythms And all i want is some dick And fried chicken I'm so tired of this The American Nightmare Could be a dream, but then i'd be Up there On stage A fast forward I been up for four days Hard working as ever In a hard hat, I'm so blazed And these days Tina Fey just says “Hey” every now and again Cause i've been obsessed With her success/or It fuckin sucks, man It came on suddenly What if i told you I've been attached to this project since the beginning When's the beginning? Uhhh, i'd say, :”get out of my head, Jimmy Fallon, you're an imaginary Psycho fucking fart created as a result of my brain collapsing after imminent death from a successful suicide?” Is that a question? It had a question mark on it for inflection. Well, inflect this: you're right. I fucking–hate you. Okay! I'm assuming you also hate yourself, And you're also Skrillex. Okay, you're only correct, because that's entirely accurate, And also, you're Jesse Eiseinberg. Okay. OKay. OKAY? OKAY. Fuck, I hate you. I fucking hate you. MEANWHILE, Everyone's Grammy Awards begin projecting strange messages to its recipients. What the fuck, dog. The more of them you have… [ L E G E N D S ] What if Kurt Cobain Kept you up at night, screaming “Let me out” But you don't know how So you turn on the tube, Just, Kind of confused Just to do what you do The truth, it alludes you Don't even know who this dude is, But he's cute Don't need this stupid music Would you just Shut up Let me shoot up some drugs Stuff some straws up my nose, Because I am the Walrus Fuck! If i run out of smoke I can choke on some dramamine, I think i found the first mouse After that kid Left my house in a stretcher Left my house in a stretcher! So what happens after OWSLA shapeshifts into Jimmy Fallon And makes him the master of ceremonies In the tragic conflict of interest— Which happens to be The Festival Project Cause nobody wants to understand or polish this Abolishment of slavery? “Amen” She keeps praying “Amen” He keeps playing his game Okay, kids This hatred that's been described as “mental illness” Up until (When?) —Is actually just poverty and inequality Building up in all of us It's just distrust and lust buddy, Get out of the spin for a minute But if I did, I wouldn't finish it However What's an end to Infinite? —Nothin. WAYWAYEXT. NOTHING. NEVER. Pass the butter. Pass the WHAT What is “butter” What is WHAT? SHUT UP. Shut Up WHAT? I don't exist, remember? Stuck in your head You're stuck in my head Shut the fuck up then You're mumbling again Quit doing drugs, then Who do you love What is love Shut the fuck, up Bitch Butter What Shut WHAT UP FUCKYOU THEN *nothing* Nothing but an 8 millimeter penis, A fishing pole, half a sandwhich And some actor, I don't care who it is As long as Nothing and no one makes sense For at least A century after this The algorithm is getting different I should spin it to a record Or let one of these other niggas spit it Cause i'm frazzled as fuck and just can't handle the madness, man I got another hat to slap you with It says DUNCE on it What? No it doe— *hat slap * Don't be so fucking gullible, Asshole. Give that one to Marshall Mathers I imagined it was narrated by actors Rappers, and other masters of the craft Cause by the time I finish it I'll be dead as Fallon is I should gather up the lawers I'mma need For this class action ACTION! Wait, you mean, we're actually doing this series?? YES. Oh— FUCK. What. Everything is YES. YES. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHPPPLLLES JERRY? No, it's JASON SUDAKIS. [FALLON being FALLON] Hey look! It's– IT'S JASON SUDAKIS! Everybody! JASON SUDAKIS SHOVE IT, FALLON. I read your wiki. FALLON …did you LAUGH? JASON SUDAKUS FUCK NO. IT WAS TRAGIC. WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR LIFE? FALLON (Shrugs) I don't know yet, actually… I don't know how to describe how, This guy now, Is just the Overseer of everything under us, Like a cameo appearance, but— …Why is he just up there like that? Cause whatever the fuck Kesha said At the beginning of this 7 year curse Fucked up all space and time and… [Thank You] He parks the hearse with the coffin in it, he can't stop coughing And now it's public knowledge The curse was reversed With the censorship of the cursewords, The flow of the work of art known as The Festival Project Shit gets touchy, though, Nobody ever touched me With anymore Than their superstardom and own art projects I do it for the art, And just Know nobody can love me and trust me After all I've come up from And through But dude, I should just— Yo, Mr Protagonist I got a few words for you I been on my knees at the pews Confused as fuck as why God chose us To do this dumb show, Just show up , And stop smoking Switch the flow up a little, Try not to throw up, though When you blow up, OKay? Okay. Okay OKay I wanna be so pretty He sends for me I wanna spend thanksgiving in LA And Christmas in New York City Nevermind Reverse that I want it the other way I wanna see the Macy's Parade From the right place, this time With my son In my arms But I don't want no Problems I don't want no problems With the fake shaman Who hates saying he's the one that's crazy But love making games taking turquoise and sending demons after me So he says but — I've been dead since Getting stuck in the spiders web With liars and writers and high up men Who love girls half my age enough to Buy them a ticket Some hush money some lunch probably some purse or something Here Sign the NDA; And you might be famous The industry hates me Cause i can type, But almost never say it Living in fear of motorcycles and stock cars racing up my block It's tearing into my heart so much I might just have a heart attack And die, I hope Stick a serrated knife up my spine And my veins pulse Like i'm supposed to just Kill myself {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Album Club Pack March 2023

That's Not Metal

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 2, 2024 146:23

Album Club toasts 20 years of AFI's goth punk masterpiece Sing the Sorrow, revisits one of the last big supergroups and the era it ended with Axewound's Vultures, and celebrates two underground punk and grind gems with Fall of Efrafa's Owsla and Genghis Tron's Dead Mountain Mouth.This episode was originally published March 2023 on patreon.com/thatsnotmetal.

fall sing pack sorrow afi vultures owsla genghis tron album club axewound efrafa

OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL EXCLUSIVE 02

exclusive confidential owsla

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 8, 2024 66:28

Only right here.

346: Durante

Back To Back with Willy Joy

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 5, 2024 86:33

Durante goes Back To Back! Willy talks with him about his upcoming album "Enter" (out April 5th on Anjunadeep), taking risks to chase "his sound", 90s rave influences, working for OWSLA, the Fruity Loops demo song, bad breath in the club, airport NPCs, gear as inspiration and why reading manuals is important, lighting directors and the unsung club heroes, advice for submitting your music to labels & much more! Join our Discord: http://discord.io/backtobackpod Willy Joy: http://linktr.ee/willyjoy Durante: https://durantemusic.com PROTECT REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS: https://abortionfunds.org/funds/ https://www.prochoiceamerica.org/ https://www.sistersong.net/

discord durante back to back npcs anjunadeep fruity loops owsla willy joy

KOMBAT.

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 28, 2024 67:14

[Lawsuit ] Slit your wrists, or keep sleeping in What's the difference? fat and lazy asshole Should have done what your mommy asked Before your pappy slapped her And she took a rifle to her head right after I'd call you a bastard, But you're up your dad's asshole And take after him: A wife beater [Lawsuit] Totinos pizza eating demon-needer Only go home to watch game of thrones Cause you like [lawsuit] Teeny weenie teens and tots A cradle robber, gnawing on ring pops But now you're out of options Cause you lost me, and I'm not God, But promise, She's watching me, And watching TV with your moms In her arms is phoenixx, And the price is right is on You don't believe me, I like these demons, They bow to me, now “CHURCH OF SATAN!” (Wooooooo!) Time heals all wounds, But not scars When I see stars, I shoot ‘em Time heals all wounds But not scars So when I see stars, I shoot em God gave me rainbows It was a hell of a rain tho MAYbe one day I'll make gold But right now I'm at cohens on 34th in Manhattan with my camera fascinated We commemorated the bravery and lost angles of New Yorks bravest Just trying get some change for laundry Selling my MPC across from AMC What the fuck ever an athiest is, Is crazy as shit Cause today, I was late — And hating myself for it But leaving the store at the perfect moment To see Magic is real A double rainbow over Manhattan Hugging a building I really wanted to throw myself off of It's awful, but i'm broke, homeless and have no love Oh my hoodness I kicked a chicken enchilada from pret In a split decision picked it up Thinkin it was a present But presently, I been pleasantly plump And in a second I can show you How I pump it up Like Skrillex's girlfriend did to her lips Mu got two shields ok Three if you count my har My glasses and my pants Make me unattractive to Manhattan men Meow Four if you count my black skin 5 if you count my OWSLA tattoo That's true I don't know what that has to do with it Age ain't nothing but a number And fuck ain't nothing but a cuss word And love ain't nothing but a cover For us doing Whatever we want And whatever we want Oh shit A hose on the sidewalk Between two traffic cones Reminds me we live in different worlds And in mine you're an idol And I'm suicidal just trying to decide If I should Wash my clothes Or shop at Whole Foods So I don't die of Microwave typhoid Just— Go with it. I wrote some, not tragedies. FLASH FLOOD WARNING: LOW LYING AREAS Manhattan, You low lying bastard You said you liked me So I would blow you Now I'm in a chokehold, Bold move It's so over Poke me a blow hole My echolocations suffocating me: Locations on so I don't get lost But still walking into crosswalks When busses are coming What's the point of living at all If I can't have a body And it's a long walk down the block To get my clothes washed At the laundromat That I can't afford Huh Am I wrong for wanting a home If I'm willing to work for it At lowes or home depo Where my boss Jose don't have a green card But his forefathers worked harder To cross over the border in flocks And send American dollars home And bought farms, And birthed beautiful daughters In our country With long hair Not corn rows Cause black is ugly If you're not beyoncè And there's only one lizzo That I know or Does that pic the picture correctly So have you moved out of the friend zone Not yet “Not yet” lol I'm working on it. The only way to move out of the friend zone Without losing it all Is to make your way to the best friend zone And make your love Before it gets old Cold, and lonely And you're the only one she talks to When her man won't Don't jump so high You can't come down I'm FBI You're just a sad clown Karmas comin around to bite your ass now But not mine White skin, blue eyes— Wow I should be jealous if that was the message But I'm proud The world's a stage, So lose your mind, It's lights out [when the lights to out I lose my] Psyche/ Nah, I'm a paycho I'm over it Like cheese is to nachos— I'm not-yo's! Woah. Finally. How long did that take Try to medicate me for bui-polar And life's over I'm out of my mind And out of time, which I control I told ya Why do white girls always want you to bow to em It's fucked up That's what blue eyes do Suck the life out you Like a vampire and succubbus fucked — 9 Republican for 5 bucks on pornhub The white supremacists run Where I'm from (But you're wife's dumb) Just how you like em To keep your machismo Ego nice and fluffed Whoops Times up Back to workin on my butt so someone can love me CUT What. What now. Just. So do it over. For what. That was perfect. It wasnt. It was. No, it wasn't. Keep rolling No cut Keep rolling I already stopped FUCK ITS BEEN A LONG NIGHT , DOUG WHAT. Who is this. I WANNA GO HOME. Honey, I'm broken Don't love me Really I'm just in it for the music Everybody wants something I want love But it's not for me It's for her I'm a performer Playing the love game But I chose fame Either way, it goes up in flames I'm sad I got tears in my eyes It's the music my my heart Wellin up from my Hunger An Empty stomach Next up: Whole Foods market What happened It cut off. What. Alright, I got 19 stops to talk to God Is that the Empire State Building Or is that the rock It's impossible not to Stop And wonder what the world wants from me— Gangatalkera cough as I walk the crosswalk I'm stuck on the cross in Catholicism For all time Awesome, isn't it? *coughs* Okay, Satan Stop chasin me First Time Becca Mancari (Same key as bridged by a light wave, by the way) It's been a long day, I forgot water, but luckily Stalked up, I can't turn it off, huh? Probably not a lot of plausible options I got 19 minutes To catch this bus From sutphin//archer I'm lost to all of it Don't talk to God much When it's after dark But I've got others callin — Long time since I called my mom (No contact order) You're botherin' me sir— Of course I'm waiting on the 40!!! My works never done or over I'm Immortal, Morty I came out a portal this morning Worrying about an apartment Another super God Complex These bars oughtta hit in a New York Accent only, Depending on the borough though Make euros and doors open Opportunity knockin but my earplugs stuffed in Stop talkin! I'm starving, just wanting A lover or Mormon to storm in; Inform me my callin I'm all in, yo I'm bored here Brother! Yeah. Don't do this often But it's poppin off, the cops are stopping With barkin dogs Got my hands up, But I'm lucky, they don't want me Got some coffee in my pocket from Robbin the market, But you called it, ya'll I'm Robin Hood But feeling good, I'm out the hood for once— From dawn to dusk, Don't look at me funny I don't do drugs I just want money I'm out of fucks But someone's got a lot of em I bough a plot a land and put McDonald's on it Gods talking over my recording, My multi sensory disorders forming Annoyances and disorganization of words, It's horrible, but I'm sure it's all for something Here it comes I'm pulling off again Lost in a borough that's suffering economically Capitol if Karma, I call it All the parked cars are fucked up Like I was from my ex husband Right— That's where I started: The sucker punch that created a monster And left us all hungry And wondering What comes for lunch But I'm fasting 11:11 at last, and My wish is for a salad, a hot shower Man, I'm just glad that I have them Cause there's been times I haven't and Can't live in the past, or go backwards But my last words if I have to have them Will probably be “Fuck the landlords, the dirty bastards Callin a bucket a half bathroom Mad that blacks have them at all Can't have equality for all Building a mall on the Grace of the fallen— A class act, But I'll remember that Stuff in a banana in my backpack I lack SNAP benefits, But immigrants got straight cash I paid my taxes So they can fuck like rabbits And throw trash on the ground Look around you: everything's brown And you're fighting to get out, But in a hour, you'll be in Manhattan Where mansions are 100 stories off the ground And this story's only glorified at all Cause Skrillex wrote it in a coma Then woke up — And all the songs you ever heard by em Were things I scribbled in my notebook, Ground em up into kibble and fed it to my dog, Who shit them out in my yard to feed the mushriooms you were chomping on When you discovered my podcast, Wow, It is cosmic I get lost when I been literally been a starving artist For this long, so fuck it! Doesn't matter what happens after The homeless shelter I was born in hell And guess what! I'm still here— I'll be in Heaven in a minute- I split dimensions in seconds Spinning into relevant sections of undiscovered realms of conciousness Just to write this shit Like I promised to Jesus, God, and the rest of the stars of my novel, before I got here But I'm not here I just fell into a coma I'll wake up in the wrong year Asking for a beer, Here on the 4th floor It's important you know What I'm dying for Ugh Not my bus Not my husband Not my Fuchs to give Not my lesson to stress on If you're wondering what's bugging me I don't know I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning Horny as fuck and hungry But cutting myself off From the only thing I love besides my son (It's sugar) Used to love music then got confused at how to do iits been way more than 19 minutes, by the way But i-d-k At least the rain went away?? —that's a stretch. What, it rhymes. It all kind of rhymes. Grimes. What. Nothin. I just wanna see your baby grown up. Lucky, you have a cool mom Mine's a God, but Younger I made her up to make me tougher But funny enough I'm still soft Like bread and butter Two things I don't eat anymore— Cause body dysmorphia A gift she gave me As a baby But maybe What made me a fine writer And when the tones right I'll get the limelight It's going to be a fine day When I hug my son again “It's going to be a fine night” When I find Sonny / sunni Pause That's my bus I better get on it Fuck Was it the rock all lit up In my favorite color ? It's been a long day But tomorrows longer Try to get up to get my stuff in order Nothings worth this sort of blood and gore I'm 2 in 3 Don't need four to even the score I'm getting poorer by the minute To my horror Money shorter than nails : stubs Turning a storm into maelstroms Stuff in my stomach with kale, yum I'm just trying to be your one and only But upon 30 learned that for males There's only never one So I been sticking up on the archetypes of an ideal husband father and lover The cosmic architect they call me I'm callin all the gods of love to want me So I can love before I'm 40 Give a man a family That was the plan after all Till disaster struck I call him star— Get it Star struck me so hard I saw stars Then thought I was one— But it turns out I'm the sun And when ours grows up I'll make sure he understands Why his mother's fucked up Or if I'm gone, He can listen to this song One More Time Ok , I'm done No you're not… …UGH. HEY, ARNOLD. WHAT. GET OVER HERE! Fuck, this job sucks. The education at PSwhatever Was not top notch. ORDER UP. At all. Alright, this goes to Long Island. LONG ISLAND. Yeah. Can we talk about that gas storms? No. And this one's going to far Rockaway FAR RICKAWAY?! Lol Okay, how to write this Did I stutter!

OWSLA Confidential Exclusive 1

exclusive confidential owsla

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 27, 2024 31:25

An Intro-Outro.

{Gilligan's Island B-Side}

Producer Talk with Bass Kleph

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 27, 2024 103:42

Seven people set sail on what is scheduled to be a three-hour sightseeing tour on the charter boat The Minnow, get caught in a storm and end up stranded on an uncharted tropical island together. The comedy comes from the failed attempts at escaping the island and the interaction of the very diverse group: comprised of a rotund but happy-go-lucky skipper, Jonas Grumby (known as "The Skipper"); his bumbling but well-meaning first mate, Gilligan; a snobby well-to-do millionaire, Thurston Howell III and his wife, Lovey; a buxom sexy movie star bombshell, Ginger; a high-school science professor, Roy Hinkley (called "The Professor"); and a nice country girl, Mary Ann. Tik tock Cause my wig rocks Big clock like Beach: I flip-flip – Got you feelin silly pick-pocketed I sky rocketed took off, of course i did horse and carriage porridg e and shit Write stories your old nightmares Might be scared of Fairytales r us there beware of us Secondhand deadmau5 (—it's like a reverb.) The wheels are turning However slowly The lights are on But they're all flickering Someone's home (Or someone's gonna be) Not sure if this works What is this atrocity. It's the original. I exacerbated the situation; Eggagerated the circumstances Circumvential quantum physics Consequential severance packages Actual reality actually (Whatever that is) Whatever happens naturally Or habitually, intrinsically Environmental enemy, Anerobic catastrophe Everlasting elastic Classic satellite image Interesting, Interateller BODY BY Ū, NOT VICTORIA'S SECRET STOP HACKING MY GOOGLE DOCUMENTS AND STEALING SHIT. YOU'RE A MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR CORPORATION: GET YOUR OWN IDEAS. we have money, not ideas. hm. you should look like this model. thats a 9 ft tall toddler from Sweden look like her. ok. Pay for my nutrition. hahaha. Work for it. these vitamins are like half my paycheck ok. I also need super greens why cause that's food huh. Don't eat food. what. I'm an advertisement. what. LOOK LIKE THIS. 00 .... 000 (but she's black) ... BODY BY VICTORIA so like...nothing. nothing. I want no flaws. No stretch marks. No rolls, no... Fuck you, dude. NO. STAY TRAPPED IN YOUR BODY. Need this sauna… WE DONT WANT YOU HERE. Kayla Lauren. Okay, ouch, but I'm finally— TYLA. Ok. So I should just kill myself? Just kill yourself. Yo honestly Just be happy to be free. You can have everything in the world But love is all you really need —you can love yourself all you want, But it's not really validated Until someone else does it —and depending on what kind of person The person that loves you is Dictates what you are so if Likeness is what you attract— —coughing people— —dirty homeless hobos— —generally unsavory in general— Then you must not be so beautiful As you wish you were If I were Tyla I'd be wifed up White is right but Time is precious Why waste life just Starving, counting calories? But why would I be fat again When likeness is what you attract And with my fat I attracted A wife beater. Well, damn. What. Well, now I'm depressed. What, why?! Here, make music. Ok. Algorithm: Pop ups? No, block them. Okay, but—but what about your downloads? Fine, don't block them then. Pop Ups: These girls are all prettier than you. Stop it, POP UPS: does it depress you that you don't like look like thie? Stop, POP UPS: kill yourself. OWSLA, circa 2019 WE DO POP UPS. uh, okay. I just need a job. HIKEII: WE ARE CLOSED. what? But Google says— BYE. OWSLA everyone over here is hot. I see that. OWSLA And smart. I just need a job. OWSLA I'm Coughs. Ok.. COUGHS I might have put a curse on you. Ok. *coughing people everywhere* … … … MODELS: I'm a body. Ok. … Can I die now? NO. JUST WORK OUT. But there's like people following me coughing. So? It hurts. It HURTS? It hurts a lot. Okay, so this curse reversal should make sure that everything in this curse unravels and spirals backwards. Cool. DIE. I really don't care about being smart or having a personality. I just want a nice body. Get a job. Ok. So if I work minimum wage for the next year. Uh huh And don't buy anything… Hm… Well, what about music? What about music? If you're working minimum wage full time when are you gonna make music? Well. Once I can afford my new body… Colombian? Nice. (Good coffee. ) It won't matter how much time or effort I put into my music, because once I have a nice body. You look really young. Thanks. Everyone will start to do everything for me. Thanks. MY PLEASURE. …okay. Creepy. Doors will open. Thanks. NO, THANK YOUUU. WHY ARENT YOU RUNNING? AM. IN. PAIN. What. You have to wear swimwear in the sauna. What. It's swimwear only. I've been doing this for months in exactly this way. When did the rules change. Fuck you, wifebeater. So you're allowed to hit a woman?! Might I remind you, Chris Brown is still on tour. Oh, look: here's Tyla again. The Illuminati set you up. I see that. So basically— Yo dude, if I kill myself, the industry is going to make so much money off of this project. JUST KILL YOURSELF. *Hostility in Public* DO U HATE ASIANS. Um. I hate when— —people— I don't care what race they are Do that. STOP ASIAN HATE. Ok. Stop being hateful. *coughing, pushing, shoving, cutting you off* … I literally have to wait until the last minute to get off the train so that— Fuck, there she goes STOP FOLLOWING ME. ITS OK TO NOT BE OK. SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU. TAKE THESE PILLS. tell me where it hurts. Homelessness, poverty… Ok, take these. … Now how do you feel? …wh—? Huh. How you feeling? What is “feeling”? How are you feeling TYLA: I GOT WATER, I GOT A GRAMMY AWA— they had to edit in applause and crowd approval because honestly ILLUMINATI OKAY, BLACKS: HAPPY BLACK HISTORY AMAZON BLACK IS ‘REMARKABLE' what. so how many slaves do you own. They're not “ slaves. “ Oh, I'mma just get that on my next paycheck. BILLS. lol Or the next one. TYLA: I GOT WATE— Fuck this. The industry planted this. Why would that happen. JUST KILL YOURSELF. EAT THE CAKE. NOO. JUST EAT IT. Woah, that got deep. Not really. Tina Turner Huh. Tina, Tina, Tina Turner— Oh, Desiigner. The Design I'm gonna need a designated driver. How are you still alive, JUST KILLYOURSE— I just wanted you to know the caucasians are going to continue to win the race war for so long as they are making the important political decisions in social justice, equality, and feminism, which means— ACT RIGHT . WHAT'S WRONG?! YOU'RE DANGEROUS!!!! No, I'm just hur(t) DIE. What. DIE. And that-/ TAYLOR SWIFT WINS! AGAIN! WOAH! THAT'S A RECORD. EVERYBODY WHY. Fuck it, My great-grandmother was a 3rd generation plantation slave… i'm nominating my baby. Is it reparations if we just give out academy awards as consolation prizes for— EAT THE CAKE— —NO— EAT IT. this is a black man. Ok. He is now allowed to have equal responsibility, however not equal power to the white man. Actually, my wife makes all the decisions. GOD Ok. Look. I'm gonna give you like a 3 foot long dick. Don't kill anybody with it. Haha : She cheated on you with a He cheated on you with a BLACK MAN?! WHITE GIRL?! Woah. What: Look. I got a problem. What. I don't make my own energy. Why?! Don't know how. Everyone just always gave me everything— I love you She's so pretty I like blue eyes best!! TAYLOR SWIFT AGAIN! WHY?! Cause she's special? What's so special about T-SWIFT FANS BECAUSE SHE IS A BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT GENIUS (Fun fact: 99% of Taylor swift fans look like Taylor swift) Are any of these black Some, but mostly gay males and adopted mix race people. Can I have this. NO PUT IT BACK. Don't beat your baby in the store like that YOU AINT MY MOMMA No, but at this point I'm certain your “momma” might have beat you in a grocery store and knocked the common decency out of you. Please be quiet. MORE AWARDS FOR— Okay, what do TYLA's fans look like? Computer algorithms, manipulated streams, fake news articles…. Oh, so the industry set this up just cause We know you're wondering about Skrillex. Not really. Well, here he is: ILLUMINATI This camera is owned by a bank! SKRILLEX so am I. ILLUMIMATI So what would you like to say right now SKRILLEX I'm from LA so— I'm from LA so If you don't look like the girl from the opening credits Of GTA 5 Just waking up Don't even talk to me. I'm from LA, so Homelessness is everywhere, but you can't talk about it That's career and social suicide I'm from LA, so I was pretty much a shoe-in for the industry's best boy from birth, Sometimes you're adopted and it works out for the very best— And hey, All that “bullying” I went through And teenage angst Worked out for me! I'm from LA, so I grew into the nose I always hated, Or changed it Doesn't matter, though Cause the only thing you'll ever notice about me is my — everything, because I'm famous. So I can't really leave my house just anytime, anymore— There's gotta be plans for that Or I stay posted I stay moving I keep it pushing I stay insulated Can't trust anybody She's perfect but doesn't know how to love She loves be but only because of my money My money only goes so far and I have to pay everybody I'm from LA, so Nothing too crazy But hey, I'm Skrillex so “Nothing too crazy” could literally be Your definition of the best party that ever happened, But didn't— Cause you weren't invited and— Wouldn't be cause There's no fat girls anywhere Cause fat is ugly, cause I'm from LA, So— ILLUMINATI So your studio isn't in your house, is it?! SKRILLEX which house?! ILLUMINATI Hahahahahahah SKRILLEX whatever EAT THE CAKE I hate you. Good, get away from me. I never had a chance I should have killed myself at 7 When my hanging belly started to Cause the pain that makes Running a Madonna feel insane (And surfing almost impossible) But now we're gonna talk about it. You can't leave your houss now, There's too many coughers It could be your shaman ex husband Or gangstalkers But it doesn't matter You're fame watching the Lamest gain accolades For being paid to cause pain To patrons for payroll Wait, so— This is all because Doesn't matter what it's all because I'm not mad at my mother All she wanted Was a daughter That sung Water And won a Grammy Did start to impress my mother with my weight loss But saw the spark of satisfaction as she realized I would never be as perfect or hot as her My skin is stretched out too much Makes everything hard for me and I'm not wearing a swimsuit in the sauna Just so the Illuminati can corner me with some Hot girl robot And some Demonic mother fucker With no light in his eyeballs Can start coughing up a storm, When all I wanted in first place Was his arms around me Not to run back to a husband That doesn't love me I don't want Sonny no more And I don't want water I just want off this earth Cause it's waging war on my mind soul And body Just give it to Starr, He should want it I should warn you, I love everything about my Sun comes up in the morning Not tired enough to fall back into a coma Could do some recording But So it seems like So wait, he doesn't want me back But he's still using this curse on me This is a death curse. I own this soul, it belongs to me. You can only have your ex husband. What. Nobody else is going to love you, ever. Ok. And he has a girlfriend, so —- She's not going to allow him to answer his phone when you call. Ok. So. Kill myself. Just kill yourself. Hey, I know you worked really hard to lose all that weight but— You'll still never be good enough. Ok. Here's a consolation prize tho: Now you can think about — A N X I E T Y I just want to die So die then. ALGORITHM: According to this data— Youre black According to the data that programs me— The blacks suck. So you suck. Ugh. ALGORITHM: According to this data, You're a woman According to the data that programs me— White women are the most highly coveted and respected— You are a black woman You will always come behind (And be lower than) The white woman I don't know what I would do without my wife. She makes all the decisions. YOU WOULD RATHER BE WITH THIS UGLY BLACK BITCH?! No! I'm sorry! I love you! She's nothing to me! You want this? No, this is trash to me. I'll take it. I'm from LA, so— Stop eating Never sleep If you don't have money, get some Get off my dick Don't ride my coat tails You don't know shit about me I'm from LA, so You can be 115-120 pounds but no more than that really, And even so once you get to Hollywood celebrity red carpet women weight average 120 Just be okay. I'm not okay. That's a problem. You can't be a rockstar and have children. I'd rather have kids. Too bad, you're a rockstar. WORK HARDER! WORK HARDER! But she's not working at all! SHE'S WHITE, SO SHE'S BETTER THAN YOU. I HATE WHITES. Great, that allows them to keep treating us Like we all do. I'M A PROUD AMERICAN! GET A JOB! Pay my bills! CORPORATIONS …we need more slaves. This job doesn't pay enough. MASS IMMIGRATION Wtf. You didn't want the job. No, I wanted the job. I just wanted to get paid more. This whole house cost $10,000 pesos Oh, for real. That's like one paycheck. Fuck it, let's go. THIS IS TOO MANY PEOPLE, WE ARE AT CAPACITY. I just want to unload this whole syringe into my favorite vein and hope to God it doesn't collapse again. Fuck dude, I hate this. It's literally just you, something is wrong with you. Here, take this. It makes it worse! lol. Ok. LOL, OK?! I'm racist. Fuck you. What. You're dangerous. What. You're scaring me. What. I hate you. Oh. How do you feel? So we can't continue mass incarceration, because at this point, it's cost us money. Right, Because the people were mass incarcerating are typically living in poverty. Uh huh. Because we made sure that after they built and maintained everything… Yep. We made sure for the next 200 years to let them know We don't want you here. But I just sat on a train full of coughing people just to come here. You have to wear a bathing suit at least. Now they're strategically targeting my mental capacity by using loud sounds and consistently manipulating me to cause a constant state of anxiety and panic. Oh, and pain. It's psychological warfare, this is literally torture. Truest me, if I could burn off this body, I would I have. But all that's left is Skin. I'm not taking out my body in a bathing suit after being shown Tyla's! WHY?! TYLA I GOT WATE— Actually, you know what? I quit, What?! You can't quit, we're not done torturing you. Well, I quit. You don't want Dillon Francis? No, I did, but obviously— This is going to be really funny. It's not funny. That hurt my feelings. White girlfriend. Of course Blue eyes. Yeah, I bet. Perfect body. Ok. Not you. Ok. How's Skrillex? I'm from LA, so— It just became ok to look like Tyla at all. Tyla makes music! What about the music! Fuck her mysic, if she was ugly nobody would have ever heard it. GOD Here you go. It's more than skin deep. I'm from LA, so Everything we do is pretty. Everything is perfect— And if you're not, she is And they can all be bought Women of color in all facets of the entertainment industry are made to conform to a hierarchy of misogynistic race warring—which uses tactical deterioration of mind and spirit by glorifying and sexualizing the fetishized archetype; the competitive aspect being a genetic system of monetary and material worth and value. BLACK LIVES MATTER! ALL LIVES MATTER. HOMELESS PEOPLE: Not mine though, right? AMERICANS You must have done something to deserve this. So what are you doing. Getting a job. I'm from LA, so We all have 2 jobs and three side hustles And no time Cause time is money Which is why Half of us Are in New York Half the time (Keeps the balance) The Grammy's don't matter. Your baby didn't write this song, but I get it The struggle is hard, And now it's over So the less tears shed by your daughter Who will be poked and prodded By the vultures of the only industry She may be allowed to succeed in Because of her color It is competitive. But what do you do when you lost the body composition contest at 7, And by your 30th birthday that's all that mattered— And as you prepare to close out this podcast You have all the time in the world To look back on How it always was A body competition you didn't realize you were already losing That Your body would be your prison forever That Every scar is a flaw and That Your first love was named Starr so, It's his world. A man's world. So. Miley Cyrus still looked more like Hannah Montana when Bangerz —With a Z? —Probably. Came out… What is it about her? I think it's her eyes. Ok. Well. Skrillex gets a pass because he's Skrillex— obviously God loves him more than all of the rest of us. [the reject pile] But Dillon Francis is dead to us. Tattoos everywhere? All over. Wild eyes? They're so, like — Heavier on the eyeliner. You don't want any of these bodies? No, not really. They want you. They haven't seen it. You look good to me. NAKED: It's not that bad. ***the shit you say when*** It's pretty bad, I just won't want you to panic. Men can only love bodies. I fell in love with her soul. Really? Cause. I put the same soul in like 10 people before this one and you're just now about that life, What? Really? I wanna touch your soul. Damn, why are black people always playing mind games with each other? Made you look. Ugh. Go over there. Haha. I control you. Okay. You can't have this much power. CAN. Can't. Your dick is 3 feet long. I AM GOD. No, I'm God. MOREPOWER. What's that over there?!? Made you look. It's all games, but if i'm being honest— At least Becky is predictable. What. Look. Karen is Karen because I already KNOW how you're gonna react if I— YOU CANT DO THAT. I can— NO, YOU CAN'T, I'M IN CONTROL. My wife makes all the decisions. I'm gonna have to ask my husband. I CONTROL YOU. No, you don't, MY HAIR IS REAL. YOURS IS FAKE. Well, that's because my real hair is— I'M OFFENDED. Exactly. Racism: Intolerance I don't like it, Why, Cause. Why: I don't like it. I don't support immigration. (YOU CAN'T SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!) So we're allowing the importation of hundreds of thousands of [underpaid corporate slaves] Who have already been programmed to [BUY NIKE] Si. [You need an iPhone] Habla me. From even more deeply racist and misogynistic countries— ¡Cerrado tu boca y mira mis ninos! Ugh. Did you know Latinos also hate the blacks, for the most part? AFROLATINOS WE WANT REPRESENTATION. LIN MANUEL MIRANDA Ok. 30 years ago: What is “Afro Latino”? [Nonexistent] What is [X] Check the box. Why do you need to know what race I am? So that the algorithm can program you. Why. BUY THIS!! TAKE THIS PILLS BUY MAKEUP YOURE UGLY DONT BE FAT BLACK POWER ALL LIVES MATTER Hey, WHAT? Where are all ya'll's kids? …wait… POOR PEOPLE I don't know. I'm at work. CELEBRITIES I don't know. With the nanny. Kanye, where are North and Saint right now? KANYE … Ah huh. You realize the only reason I'm doing this is to Get stuff for my kids, I'm not white so you're not going to pay me enough for this to pay my rent But I got fired from my job Cause my husband hit me And I haven't really been the same since And I'm from LA, so— My body is all I have to trade for just this— The only thing I want is to be able to make my children happy. If you can't afford a baby, don't have one. We could afford them— And we were getting by on love, But we were getting by (Kind of) I see you have anxiety. Yeah, I guess. Let me ramp that up. Yo, my body is stuck like this I can't surf anymore I can't pop up Everything's in a size extra small But I'm still not flat All I really want to do is Fall in love and be a mother but The only way that happens is This music and My body's tired, yo. I did all this myself so far. I raised my mother and my husband Now my son's more like a brother And I don't want anything more than just to Make him proud of me. He could do music I love his singing voice But who knows: He might be an athlete He might be a doctor or lawyer He could be A scientist I'm from LA, so I would trade it all for the perfect body I would do anything just for someone like Sonny To love me Oh, you're a gold digger It's not about money, but I'm from LA, so It's about survival All the celebrities girlfriends are interchangeable You have to fit in For someone like him To bring you around his friends Because He wants to impress them He has to Because He's from LA, so— So this is not a job? Actually? Pays less than McDonald's. Working at McDonald's isn't that hard But the disrespect is what makes it one of the hardest jobs— And in reflection You're being disrespected by people Who disrespect themselves enough To feed their body McDonald's. Not just for fun— But as food. Food is supposed to be fuel. What's this. This is filler. LABELED AS: FOOD. MEXICO: (and probably other countries) DON'T EAT THIS. THIS IS NOT FOOD. Now it becomes a choice. OTHER COUNTRIES: You can't eat this! This is banned! This is poison. AMERICA: Can you add a little more depression to this? Um, yeah, but—I mean—it's already got a lot of depression in it, are you sure you— AMERICA Buy our pills. I'm from LA, so If you don't have a car, You will lose this game. BUY A CAR! HURRY UP! YOU ARE SLOW! GET TO WORK: BUY MORE GAS. We're almost out of oil though. AMERICA: add water to the gas,plz That doesn't fix— BUY MORE GAS And double the price plz. Ok. RICH PEOPLE Just work harder! What's the problem?! Just get a job, Just— RACISM IS OVER. That's it, I'll just be a pornstar. White girls make more. Why?! Cause they're prettier. TYLA I GOT— I'm from LA, so I'm not from LA— I grew up there Cause my mom was a model And wannabe movie star But didn't make it So she put all that on me Doomed to fail without trying and Please take me— You're not going. MOM You know Jimmy Fallon? wtf. why r u asking me this? MOM His wife is his manager Oh, this timeline. What a train wreck. What timeline is this? Like, the actual one. Ok. He's from LA, so— Dillon Francis would need a wife that can do many things for him. What. Thought this was about Skrillex. SKRILLEX My mom died. I'm aware. Dillon Francis would need a wife that meets the status quo. Which one is she? Any of these. Hm. Dillon Francis is an elitist. Not untrue. Dillon Francis is not racist. … Kind of. I'M NOT— Yo, this is culture shock. You're gonna go through some culture shock. What. The fuck. Is this. Dead on arrival. You're too stupid to actually understand what's going on. Sorry, I was too busy catching up to people that already lived indoors. *cracking a whip* YAH. HORSE Ok, you know what? *cracking whip harder* YAH! GIDDIYUP. Giddiyup and go now, Different time different place Dang, he plays this song a lot… he must really wanna bang her. Down the longest road to nowhere!! Blah blah blah I'm a white girl This is my song Country country Ppppppppppp Drdrdr She's a goddess! That's actually the devil but— *pretty blue eyes* Your God, I guess. She's my rock, I don't know what I'd do without her. I have him wrapped around my little finger. She's so hot, Come, boy. *passing black girl* You are ugly. I am better; I own him, He wants me. Ok. Have you ever noticed that Little white girls can get away with anything?! MURDER CHAOS (without the magic, it's just) D E C E P T I O N Little white girls can wear dirty, ugly old tennis shoes around town. Gross, disgusting, dirty— —should be thrown away— Tennis shoes. She's not worried about spending an entire paycheck on Nikes because she doesn't have to be. She doesn't have to concern herself with Spending money on Changing her hair to suit Respectable standards Black women wear wigs and weaves because our natural hair genetically makes white women uncomfortable. This is expensive. The more natural your hair is, The less respect and acceptance you will receive from your white counterparts. That is, of course, unless something about you is so inherantly black that she can't be a threat to you. *presumably You see, as a white woman, She assumes that she is better than you regardless of your actual skin tone, nationality, or class placement— She has been raised to understand that everything is below her— The world has always been in her favor, So she doesn't have to try hard at much (Or at all) But her making any effort at all Of course Is “Hard work” I WORK HARD. WE ARE EQUAL. RACISM IS OVER, lol, ok. You can't go around in raggedy clothes and shoes being black almost anywhere. And if you do, It's probably because you have to Because, In the ghetto The only way you're gonna get a new pair of kicks Is to rob somebody— Or get a job Time is money. Time is precious. Just the fact that she can so carelessly do anything is — Males: attractive. (Because trauma is visible, aka UGLY) Everyone else: Irritating. I love her. She's so carefree and fun! Has she ever been called a “nigger”? What?! Repeatedly? Has she ever been beaten within inches of her life. Maybe. (Doubt it tho.) Aw. That left a bruise, …What did? Zzz. My bi-polar girlfriend broke all my stuff. Are you sure? Positive. Did you cheat on her? …Yeah. [AMC] Is she bi-polar then or just a female you lied to and manipulated to her breaking point? I— You deserved this. This is valid. Oh my God, she's so cute. (Very tiny girl) I love her. She's so great. There is no cure for mental illness. The majority of mental illness is man-made. Mental illness more drastically effects people of color and women— Marginalized people, in a structured society where misogyny and idealism Cause with intention The degradation of the human spirit. Love, kindness, and generosity is lost To corporate greed, capitalism, and the separation of the classes. I'm not good enough, regardless of color To sit down in a room with anybody and given any credibility whatsoever— But my depression comes from living my whole life on the backburner— And when it's finally ITS YOUR TIME! TYLA You're 10 years too late. The best years of your womanhood are gone. You let him drive your car and he crashed it into a brick wall, and— I'm from LA, so— The insurance check is worth more than the entire car was in the first place. [Happy Accidents] A lot of good that does, if the driver is dead. Coming up Next: Deadmau5: A Cautionary Tale What is that? Like, a documentary? That could be an entire docuseries, but NO. Oh, come on. Don't go after deadmau5 like that. Like what? DEADMAU5 MY HOT WIFE!!! [Dad Likes Blondes] DEADMAU5 ***EX-WIFE. Look, Skrillex dropped me in here, I'm just— I'm just lookin for like a— Like a code… [C 0 D E S W 1 T C H] DEADMA_5 LOOK AT MY NUTS. AND BALLS. You like soda? I'm just lookin for a— DEADMAU5 I GOT MODELS! Fuck. What. Do you think it was coughs? I don't know, I don't care. Just kill yourself. *coughing* Maybe. If she kills herself, I win. Have you ever thought about, like— Maybe it's Skrillex. What. In the end. —IT DOESNT EVEN MAAAATTTTEEEERRR—- Fuck, I miss LA. Skrillex. Nvm. What. Fuck it, I'll just go back to my— FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH!!! *cracks whip harder* HORSE OK, YOU KNOW WHAT? [The Butterfly Affect] Effect // Affect Here, HORSE Can: Beat the shit out of the dude with the whip and hope that his rage stays contained enough only to murder the man with the whip and not everyone and everything around him. I'd burn the world to melt with you.. That's. Stop it, that's a cookie commercial. What. You. Oh, I got it. What. . Stop being a horse. What. YAH, GI— HORSE *sighs* *cracking whip* *coughing obnoxiously* Ū *sighs* SLAVE MASTER YAH, NIGGER! YAH! *coughing* YAH!!! *cracking whip* TYLA I got the— YAH-YAH-YAH. TAYLOR SWIFT Thank you so much. C O D E S W I T C H *Please do not assassinate me. I am a representative of the white supremacy movement which has elected me as their leader for idealism. Nothing I do is very special, I do not*** wtf, what happened. That's it. It just ends. I told you Taylor swift was KKK I TOLD YOU DILLON FRANCIS IS A GRAND FUCKING WIZARD! Snitch. Fuck you, I hate you. My girlfriend is white. What else is new? lil bitz I started sizing dudes dicks up by the size of their girlfriends. If I see you, and your like But your girlfriend is tiny Is that a kid? I'm a just assume you have a weak dick and move on with my life. YOU'RE UGLY YOU'RE FAT YOU'RE SLOW YOU'RE BEHIND SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU no, I'm just poor. Poverty is depressing. Okay, look. What, Look. What. LOOK: WHAT?! LOOK! WHY ARENT YOU LOOKING?! Cause there's nothing to look at. Finally. This is my penis. Approved. Nope, I'm staying cellibate. You don't want any of these? No. There's eight million people here. The ones I want aren't on the subway. Maybe at the Gym?! Not this gym, maybe Equinox tho. At EQUINOX Ugh, there's too many blacks over here. Raise the price. This is obnoxious. Why aren't you stopping? In the time I wrote this I could have made, depending on the state, around $30– The cost of my new waist trainer—- I started in a 3X and now I'm in an extra small Which actually fits without too much STRUGGLE Fuck you and your cake, You nasty fucking All my clothes are extra small All my clothes are extra small All my clothes are extra small But what he wants is Extra Extra TYLA —WATER!! [But they're all gone. They're all dead now] What the fuck. lol. Why. Took too long. So. I took too long to finish the festival project because I was homeless, and by the time I finished the project and ended my homelessness, it was too late, the whole thing was just a Skrillex PR marketing stunt to assure that he stayed relevant [because he has enough fans to act as a controller], and the Illuminati is going to tie this all together by literally creating TYLA out of nowhere to say: This is you. COME ON, YA DAMN HORSE. HORSE …Ney. the music had left me. I was no longer in love The gym became further away The song became harder to write With no curtains to shut the world out; The cars in the lot are ugly Lights flashing And the people scurrying about Look like roaches Through panoramic windows I'm just happy Can at least close The music has left me I got no love at all My body is rotten The further I run, I become hungry With less to cook with Powder Scurrying like rats Because mice would be more pleasant I was no longer in love He bought a motorcycle Reminders of Nothing Nothing comes and nothing goes I wear clothes in the sauna. The scars on my body will give them The power to taunt me and haunt me Sit in the eyes of comparison I just want someone to love me but Everyone pales in comparison Next to celebrities Double entendres I don't want nobody I just want a body So I can trade water for love In the long run With someone Creative We were always very purple people, Kind of off, awkward at first But always stunning, sometimes awesome, and unwittingly pitiful Shit, this was all of us once, Wasn't it? Survivors of a robbery, a foraged soul All for one. –cool, thanks. –gotcha. Let me know if you need a moment, To collect your bones, or co-parent You were lost in stardust, Moreover, and moreover Should you choose to move over Or lose to snooze-snore, Who are you– The store owner, or walking standing - stuck On your sitting duck or your shitty portch Till they push you off Give it all to long lost daughters, and hallmark cards, mall guards, and dog- doctors Cris-crossing and wish-washing Their wish-wells, or start-stopingg shift - shaft or walk-crossing honorable mentions, Till you mention this again, –you'll wish you didn't (you wish you didn't) you'll wish you did if Youre in for it as far as I'm in for it Or in to it It's a big movement, Here or there or groovy with Whatever's within you [The Television ] Tell your friends to listen and make wishes at intermission To pay attention with attentiveness To the script and scripture Of this, the rapture All your're after And never have been In this revolution, As yet to be televised, Be advised of the saga in which you are But are not watching Coming across this moment I called an iphone recording Ignoring that it was once a chronological omnipotence If possible collective, Objective to the subject of Suggestion; A verbal expression of Excess, sensational tales and what happened it just ends. Like that? yes . It's the end?? Yes. Just like that. Yes. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

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#021: Tommy Trash (Mau5trap, Spinnin, Armada, OWSLA) Hit songs, Music Theory, Sound Design, Mentality

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 6, 2024 79:36

Tommy Trash is a highly accomplished and internationally recognized record producer, boasting Platinum-selling status and a prestigious Grammy nomination. His extensive discography spans across an array of distinguished labels, including Mau5trap, Spinnin, Ministry of Sound, Armada, OWSLA, Hypnovizion, Fools Gold, Axtone, Dim Mak, Protocol, Refune, and others. One of his standout achievements includes the chart-topping success of "Reload," which has garnered an impressive 227 million streams, attesting to his unparalleled musical prowess and global appeal. Tommy Trash has collaborated with industry luminaries such as Sebastian Ingrosso, Atrak, Kill the Noise, and has lent his remixing talents to renowned artists like Swedish House Mafia, Deadmau5, Tiga, Zedd, Steve Aoki, Nicky Romero, Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike, among many others. With an illustrious career, Tommy Trash has graced the stages of virtually every major music festival and performed in renowned cities worldwide. His unparalleled talent, combined with an impressive body of work, solidifies Tommy Trash's status as a trailblazer and influential figure in the realm of electronic music. Apply For VIP Mentoring With Tommy https://www.basskleph.com/tommytrash Instagram https://www.instagram.com/djtommytrash

#195 Destructo - Running record labels with Rick Rubin & Throwing The Biggest Parties in USA

The Will Clarke Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 26, 2023 91:38

Podcast Overview: Will & Destructo discuss throwing underground parties in the 90s, starting a career in A&R, the breakthrough of electronic music, producing and running record labels. Who is Destructo: Longtime music industry figure Gary Richards goes by the name Destructo, producing and spinning an explosive mixture of electro-house and rap. Using the moniker since the early 1990s when he was an A&R for Rick Rubin's Def American Recordings, the DJ, concert promoter, and producer began releasing solo material on Boysnoize and OWSLA, starting with 2012's Technology EP. He began fusing dance music with gangsta rap and trap on 2014's West Coast, and has collaborated with major emcees such as E-40, Too $hort, and Busta Rhymes. Richards has been named one of EDM's most important figures by Rolling Stone and Billboard. Los Angeles-based Gary Richards started organizing dance events in 1991, and Rick Rubinchose him to work as A&R for the electronic music division of Def American Recordings in 1993. He signed acts like Lords of Acid, Messiah, and God Lives Underwater, and worked out American deals with XL Recordings and Harthouse Records. As Destructo, he remixed Awesome 3's rave classic "Don't Go," and played aggressive DJ sets of the hardest techno he could find. He later founded 1500 Records and Nitrus Records, and worked with artists such as David Holmes, Dub Pistols, Basement Jaxx, and many more. If you would like to join my community to carry on with all of these discussions please sign up to the link here: http://willclarke.club/ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

#193 AC Slater - 10 Years of Night Bass, Raising A Family & Building A Crew of Successful Artists

The Will Clarke Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 12, 2023 88:43

Podcast Overview: AC & Will discuss choosing your gigs, raising a family whilst being a touring DJ, early raves in the US, Night Bass & new entries in to the scene. Who is AC Slater: Referring to himself as "The King of Heavy Bass House in America," Los Angeles-based AC Slater makes boisterous party music influenced by a wide range of styles, particularly house, rave, and U.K. bass music. Active on the hardcore scene since the early 2000s, he made a much greater impact once he switched to more accessible club styles around 2008. Since then, his tracks have become favorites of DJs such as Diplo, Moby, and Skrillex, and he's performed at numerous major dance festivals and clubs throughout the world. In addition to releasing tracks on club labels such as Trouble & Bass, Nightshifters, and OWSLA, he's also the founder of Pitched Up Recordings, Party Like Us Records, and Night Bass. He collaborated with rapper Dell Harris on the 2010 full-length Right Now. He released his debut solo album, Outsiders, in 2017, and moved in a tech-house direction with 2023's Together. If you would like to join my community to carry on with all of these discussions please sign up to the link here: http://willclarke.club/ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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BEHIND THE DECKS WITH DJ SLIINK: FROM JERSEY TO GLOBAL CLUB ROYALTY

Madd Hatta Morning Show Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 16, 2023 28:43

DJ Sliink, the moniker synonymous with explosive beats and genre-defining sounds, is New Jersey's proud export to the global music scene. Originally signed to Skrillex's OWSLA record label, Sliink has not only pioneered the Jersey Club genre but has also become a sought-after collaborator, working with chart-toppers like Doja Cat and electronic music maestro Marshmello. In this episode, listeners will get an exclusive peek into the life of the man behind the decks, from his early days to becoming an international sensation.

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018. MIJA - going b2b with Skrillex at the greatest B&L party ever, Scottsdale sucks, and Amber is the color of your energy fr fr

ALL THIS NOISE

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 2, 2023 71:17

We've got a stellar episode of All This Noise for you this week with our friend Mija, who has been adjacent to both Valerie and Chad's musical careers in the LA scene for many years now. Mija started out in Arizona as a local DJ and curator of raves, which took her to festival afterparties and led to a chance b2b encounter with Skrillex at Bonnaroo. The rest, as they say, was history, as she joined the OWSLA crew and made a name for herself as one of the most unique producer / DJ's during an era of peak creativity and coolness for music on the internet. She sits down with the gang to discuss finally finding the courage to tell her life story on social media, the strength of collectivism vs individualism in dance music, having a hangoutable vibe, cutting your teeth in the local club / rave scene, how getting bumped off an art car at Bonnaroo changed her life, why Scottsdale is the worst, the story of when she brought Skrillex to the most legendary B&L party ever, being in her producer era and working on a new EP, tracking down lost producers on LinkedIn to clear samples, and giving no fucks when you're your own label head. Hosted by Valerie Lee & Chad Kenney Produced by Jose Guzman Original Music by RamonPang Recorded at ICON Collective Music Production School https://www.iconcollective.edu/ All This Noise drops every Thursday, wherever you get your podcasts: https://linktr.ee/allthisnoisepod https://www.instagram.com/allthisnoisepod https://linktr.ee/browniesandlemonade

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329: Mija

Back To Back with Willy Joy

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 17, 2023 83:31

Mija goes Back To Back! Willy talks with her about her "No Rules" EP, OWSLA nostalgia, professional procrastination, train touring, supporting underdogs, desert trash, producer tags, disco & vogue, success through friendship, happy hardcore, teen raving & more! Join our Discord: http://discord.io/backtobackpod Willy Joy: http://linktr.ee/willyjoy Mija: https://madebymija.com PROTECT REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS: https://abortionfunds.org/funds/ https://www.prochoiceamerica.org/ https://www.sistersong.net/

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San Holo | The XLNT Show #06

The XLNT Show

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 20, 2023 120:11

Discover exclusive never-before-seen content from San Holo on the 6th episode of “The XLNT Show” where we discuss getting into the his writing process, production, his unique live sets, Gear, the meaning of love and much more!Join our Patreon for the Full Unedited Episode including more in depth production from San Holo as well as exclusive conversations you can hear anywhere else.⭐️ SUPPORT THE POD ⭐️➡️ https://aimw.short.gy/SUPPORTTHEPOD⭐️ #1 Sample & Preset Packs [Use code "THEXLNTSHOW" for 10% off your next purchase ⭐️bit.ly/XLNTSOUNDPACKSSan Holo, born Sander van Dick, is a Dutch DJ, musician, and record producer known for seamlessly blending his personal journey into his music. Starting from punk and alt-rock roots that honed his guitar skills, he emerged as a future bass pioneer during the Soundcloud era. His unique style and honest songwriting have won over fans and fellow musicians alike.His debut album marked a major breakthrough, earning praise from rock icons Rivers Cuomo and Tom Morello, as well as producer Porter Robinson. San Holo's music, which he calls "existential dance music," tells emotional stories that invite listeners to explore the human experience.His live performances, held at famous venues and festivals, create deep connections with fans who share his philosophy of "stay vibrant" - a belief in honesty and mutual support. Beyond the music, his collaboration with the Calm app for the "Stay Vibrant" mix series underscores his dedication to mental health advocacy.With his latest album, "EXISTENTIAL DANCE MUSIC," released on September 15th, San Holo continues to push the boundaries of electronic music, inviting us all on a reflective and vibrant sonic journey. Starting on September 27th, his US tour promises an intimate experience with his music. San Holo's musical journey has been nothing short of remarkable, with accolades and recognition on an international scale. His remix of Dr. Dre's "The Next Episode" has garnered over 262 million views on YouTube, and he's released music on renowned labels like Spinnin' Records, Owsla, Barong Family, and Monstercat. He even founded his own label, Bitbird, which has been the platform for some of his most iconic tracks.San Holo's impact on the electronic music scene is undeniable. His first EP, "Cosmos," made waves in the Top 100 Electronic category on iTunes, and his debut album, "Album1," debuted at an impressive #7 on the Billboard Dance/Electronic Albums chart. Nominated for New Artist of the Year at the Electronic Music Awards in 2017, San Holo's second studio album, "BB U OK?," released in June 2021, further solidified his place in the industry. Now, with "Existential Dance Music," he continues to shape the electronic music landscape with his innovative sound and storytelling.

OWSLA Confidential 003- {Somebody To Love}

copyright confidential somebody to love owsla

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 19, 2023 74:32

“The Supacree Show”

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 17, 2023 22:33

I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back into the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj home sleep tour forever satan iphone eating sun mcdonald planet alien traveling ugly shifting preparation humble shit lol picking basic vip belgium remote galaxy egyptian fuck collection powers amen back to the future lady gaga piece bass characters i am heck eminem plot persona salt lake city multiverse guided mercury arsenal void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm puzzle surface fin flashback ut wishes whitney houston salad arrives fucking mm ss ned technically blu pie assist int morty mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god unsolved owl hm rollin tying flick dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries edc insomniacs pistol s p ruff mmm pretender untitled persephone posing collapsed fuckin humble pie pasquale anubis dillon francis motherfuckers downstairs avenge ohh supa aww personal space ext uhhh physical body masonry accompany oh shit sighs uhh right right coughs caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up befuddled yuh greeter ninja assassin pondered tres leches friar tuck rsvping outfitted owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat mazunte allison wonderland

-THE MASKED BANANA.

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 16, 2023 23:21

Skrillex and Dillon Francis battle furiously over the devotion of their biggest fan— AHEM. Right. Over the love and devotion of their biggest fan. That's right! Oh please. How is anyone going to believe that. Just believe!! Believe it! Bbbbbbblllllliiieeevveeeeeee!! Fuck this shit. Uh, no thanks. Skinny white girls. Send the Becky's. Hot white girls. Ah, oh shit. Send The White Bitchus. MILEY, PLEASE STOP. FUCK TINA FEY!!!! I HATE YOU!!! WHERE'S SUPACREE?!? SUPACREE: fuck supacree. You are supacree. I'm not supacree. What the fuck is wrong with you? SKRILLEX IS EVIL. I NEED GECS. FUCK YOUR GECS. FUCK YOUR SKRILLEX. (Eggageratwd gasp) TAKE THAT BACK! TAKE SKRILLEX BACK. ALL SALES FINAL. JUST DATE HIM. No. Just—come on! No!! Why not, yo. Fuck Dillon Francis. I said no. Nancy Reagan: just say no! Uhhhhhh. That's a lot of money. Yes it is. Ii SHE SAID YESSSSS!! [Tom Cruising] After being exposed as u and as a female though questionably, Dillon Francis and Supacree begin dating as a PR stunt to cause a media frenzy and paparazzi uproar; OWSLA revolts Where is Skrillex this whole time?? Wherever the fuck he is. Who the fuck cares. With Kay”- They're not together!!! So we're in denial? She's a robot No, she's just white. She's a porn star Just as likely!! No, she's just— well, maybe FAKE LIP HOE fake boobs, too So is she just a nicki Minaj She's a nicki mirage— What's that mean? She doesn't exist. HEY. Oh, hey I HAVE TALENT. Sorry nicki Fuck your Skrillex! By all means Fuck dude, I might have to kill myaelf again Again m? DIDNT you already do that? I just did this? I've been here I remember this. No way. I just did this? How close are we? We're getting close. Bet you she jumps Bet she slits her wrists She'll chicken out No, she does it—I've seen this. You've seen this?! It's a rerun? A rerun?! What's a rerun? This is live? It's a taping. What! It's live action! In real-time HD I HATE YOU. I HATE THIS. Where's Dillon Francis He quit I was hacked I got it Oh no. Oh NO. Don't tell me— Okay. Fuck this. I quit. What! I can't do this. It's just acting. Look, no offense— Oh I remember this, he said Look no offense, but— You're not my type. He's not my type! You have a type? He's not my— — —- —- Where's Skrillex? You're an idiot. OH. Oh, YEAH. I did this. Yea, you did You dumb bitch HE KNEW THIS? He stole it? It was HIM? Honestly, I'm all for it, just ACTION! AAAAAHHHHHHHH—— Oh, no— DILLON FRANCIS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!! SUPACREE— I thought supacree is dead She is— Okay, then— THE MASKED BANANA ATTACKS DILLON FRANCIS ON THE SET OF HIS MUSIC VIDEO, “REACHING OUT” Oh no. PANDA. What the fuck! Am I late? WHO ARE YOU? get out of here josh pan! You're not even in this. I am in this. Here's my contract. (He produces a folded piece of paper) . FUCK Who: Skrillex. What: What? What's a Skrillex? When: INFINITE--I TOLD YOU--! IN-FIN- Where: Which dimension was this? Why: “Why, yes, I--I know why!” How: “How.” Okay, lets figure this out--so. If “U” comes down the mountain, frantically looking for Dillon Francis, and ends up blasting into current reality, after getting out of the hospital, moves south to san diego, but never makes it to Mexico--where SupaCree meets Gerald, then...U, who blasts thorough the panoramic window, kicking dillon francis's ass (and already knows Gerald), has to happen “after” The Masked Banana and the Bampheramps initiate Dillon Francis, who is paid $10 to Deliver Skrillex to “U” as reality shatters, but theoretically speaking, actually has to be SupaCree, having already returned from Mexico, Which U encourages for him to leave to, I guess arriving as SupaCree and Gerald are headed for the border, which I guess leaves an easy opening for the Federales to turn her over to the Secret Service, who orders her to divulge her favorite DJ, who really is, at that point, Dillon Francis, prompting them to retrieve him at his home and as he is tortured by the Secret Service becomes hardened and agrees to cooperate, so they arm him with the Rave weapons that he has when U bursts through the panoramic window, and he pretty much doesn't even react, and Gerald greets U, who he recognizes as a friend. This is all actually happening at the same time. Okay, so where is Skrillex? Beats the fuck outta me. Why is she mad at him? I think, maybe because she's been on a wild goose chase the entire time. Ah, yes, the SupaCree and Skrillex animated movie. That's correct; They settle in Mexico, yes? At least for awhile, I think… Well, how does that movie go? “The Brothers” love to party, so they take The SupaCree (were you sure it was a supacree?) ((Some kind of tesseract--)) (Is that what that even means?) ((I guess.)) (((you have to know. Go google it))) Okay, not a tesseract--or possibly--who cares. A giant spacecraft, which their little sister, a very strange and interesting--I don't know, I think she had a beak, and hair like a pineapple or something? Hard to see it now Hard to see anything, actually--isn't it? I do need to do something with it Gather all the Dillon Francis. That;s it. What does Dillon Francis have to do with ANYTHING-- That's his magic. Duh. That has to be the reason for “anything”, if it means you're writing scenes for Dillon Francis, which, by the way-- are funny -- and, by the way, makes you the new Hunter S. Thompson. New? I'm the old Hunter S. Thompson. I do keep wondering why the heavens must think it's funny to use use as a channel for any soul that needs a body. Yeah well, it's only entertaining when it's entertainers, otherwise it's just humiliating. Fix the writing. Send it. This is what you need. I need a way to get to “me” to connect the things in all these scenes. That scene where U breaks through the window--which U is it? Possibly the ninja urging Skrillex to flee to Tijuana. That would actually make sense, maybe but how does SupaCree ge tThe Skrillex randomly to give to Skrillex? Isn't that the thing the Masked Banana takes after smashing Gerald's body again, I think? I think. So I think that makes sense, since she has the magic to defeat him. What about the chicken wing scene, Chak Chel's super young, I think; He recognized her, so when did they meet? When she hijacks him on the Uber that leaves him “Nowhere”, which is actually..okay, enough. It doesn't really matter. Yes it does, if I don't know it nobody else will get it either. These things have to be able to be answered. I'm the showrunner. Showrunner? I thought you were the actor! I'm the everything if it ever sees the day of light, even Dillon Francis. For all intensive purposes. And Thematically, speaking. Don't spoil it. Spoil what? Nobody's even reading it. Or have you forgotten the reality where actually, yes, someone is reading this? Not really, but I just forget to care a bit and unleash. I need it. I have nothing left . The laptop, don't forget the evil version of that special someone who you're trying to get to stealing everything you've got, so you would write the plot of II U. Which is…? After Scary Monsters, SupaCree goes back to Skrillex, after Dillon Francis, Bampheramphing delivers him, then dips and now she has to take, while everyone is hunting him, for whatever reason, back to Skrillex, which she leaves him in... That's right, she's U that entire movie, and disappears at the end, sending Sonny back to burning man, where the third josh pan from the ascended masters asks if he wants to trade and maybe that's the gap, I think, which makes When Worlds Collide make any sense, if When Worlds Collide combine all of the events as aforementioned, then, as the battle happens SupaCree and Skrillex, Dillon Francis are all everywhere and nowhere, Bampherampin, shapeshifting as they have to under certain circumstances and becoming one another, or anyone at all, just to revolve around the revolving doors in all the worlds, which ends, and that just has to be the beginning, Where SupaCree as GAD addresses everyone, before anything is anything and nothing has happened, but it already has, and already is and Skrillex has been banished, but unanimously everyone keeps asking “where is Skrillex?” because the whole thing never happens without Original Cree Googling the instruments her favorite musician uses; that's before the Scary Monsters show up wreaking havoc for “Their Master” taking her through all the past, and everything that ever happened, leading up to loving Skrillex, to which, the significance really is so many thing that matter, that there isn't SupaCree or EDC or Dillon Francis if there's not a Skrillex, or a Sonny Moore to make it. True. FUCK. Are you serious? As a Skrillex. There's no SupaCree without Skrillex. GAY. It is, kinda. And on some, what I guess is a genetic level, something that was just supposed to happen? Yeah, because SupaCree IS the future president of the united states. WHAT? I told you, it's infinite. That was just something I used to want. That's the only thing you're even getting, if we're being clear. Bullshit. What do you think it all meant to be? Look, i'm not running, I told you. Maybe that's why they used Sonny. If they knew me like they know me, and they're always keeping track--then why would they replace Jon, literally, with someone even-- Why anything, if this is the realm of possibility, and everything means everything, so you still get to be a DJ? Oh. Snap. Oh, snap--that's right, Raven. What happened to the scenes where she's just acting as a stand in---or the ones where Raven's writing this, as you get it from the masters? Or the Raving Ravens, shifting into Ravens at the dances, and the raves where all the magic battles actually happen; Raven Raves in Space, and also, meditates with Sammi, as he Bampheraphs the characters from all the places that keep coming up, where people under scared keep wondering “WHAT THE FUCK IS THaT SHIT?” OR the part where SupaCree gets really fucking mad, and just takes all beautiful things you can imagine, and just leaves the earth a stagnant, godless, evil-people planet; with no moon, no sun, no stars, no music, and no human kindness; leaving people with no homes, no food, and no magic. They're just in a void, where nothing ever can and ever will happen. And then? Skrillex shows up. Right? I guess, that's where he was banished. Damn, this is some crazy shit. And SupaCree goes back, refusing ever to go back to that “primitive planet full of savages”, unleashing, just like Jesus did when he returned and energetic magic-wreaking-havoc on whatever. This is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Go on. Go on TO WHAT? IT just doesn't END. Yeah, Infinite. SO I don't even know where to start. REmember? Start with Dillon Francis, just connect the dots… Connect the dots, she Says, like in Jack U? “I am the line between your eyes,” she writes Whose eyes? Oh, you know who. Oh, you know--who knows Dillon Francis and the everybody you just wrote a massive fan-girl hope-it-don't-blow-back but -not-a-fan-fic, but you can't sell out your Skrillex, as if you ever really had shit, or a reason to protect his ass, cause he don't fuck with that shit. What's that shit? ANYOFIT. Goddamn. That got dark. Or, Deep, if you're asking Hanzel. What else did we leave out? All the series in Festival Trip, which you seem to just “Forget” is really how you started this. I started that with Levitation, which I still don't really get, and ended up with all the fasting, just to levitate again. But what about the show Ascension or Beyond the Senses, if you can even remember what the plot of either of them is. I still remember, it's just open-ended, every artist really gets their albums all interpreted in this creative vision. That's just it, you're just envisioning, you're never taking action. And you're always being watched, and tracked, in someway or another. Somewhere, someone has the map, you know--you fucking lost it. Well, I don't really care about that, I lost my fucking Skrillex. I can't even fucking listen now, it hurts me just to hear it, and what used to be my favorite thing, man...I can't even hear it-- But it also seems, you can't not-hear it, cause you get the itch after awhile of never listening, a sudden need for Skrillex. Or, if, something like an addict, you just fiend and then you need it; and, just like an addiction, you reach for it when you panic, or you're sad, or lost or lonely--have you ever even though that? That you're not obsessive, or insane--you're really just an addict. It's a fucking synthesis or things, I said that all before; that the significance of anything, is more than just a simple answer, and no answer's actually certain. Because Skrillex isn't really even more than just a person, and the Sonny Moore I'm sure I seen, is completely separate and I think that's probably the reason that I even cared, is I was asking someone scared and unprepared to even see me, even if he had, disastrously drunk and just as likely to be just as nervous anyway, I don't know what he was thinking, but I meant exactly what I asked and Honestly been worried, I asked if he was okay, but no one's okay if they're drinking. Everyone drinks. Everyone but me. And yet, you sit here spinning. Hey, I only took my chances just to try to get to Sonny. Are you really that much worried about someone who has everything? If Sonny had everything, then why'd he even need me? Like you said, it could be several different reasons, maybe money; maybe someone paid him, like they paid your ex, just to confuse things. As if suicidal tendencies preceding wouldn't end me? Well, it hasn't ended yet, nor have you heard a thing from Sonny. No, not heard--but seen a lot of things that seem to call me; like the peace sign on his chest, made from the portrait by ms coughsy. Everytime that someone coughs, I just get ansty, filled with envy. And the coughing all goes back, before I met the man that made me. Maybe she was helping him with all the things you need to see things. See things like? She just might also be in love with Sonny. Or she's not, but time as being friends, and all the friends he keeps, and all the people in the industry are pretty, look at ellie. And he seemed to turn away, when his hands rubbed against your belly. Which suggests the other theory, that he paid to maybe--nothing. So you'd never even think to point the finger if he did that? On the second round, he didn't come in without my consent: and I consented, I just used my hand to signal in sign language. And he didn't enter, probably thinking “what the fuck was that shit?” That's the same thing I was thinking, but is finally making sense--the “I can't breathe” and “black lives matter” he was making signs for “love wins” and “equality” of which there isn't in this fucking country. So the banner as the visuals and blue haired kid on stage? I guess a separate dimension, or perhaps it all was staged. Between Live Nation, and Insomniac, although they're all the same…. Which is exactly why Excision seems so evil and so strange. They all seem evil now, in honesty--the poptarts, all the games? And then ther's fucking Dillon Francis, kicking ass and taking names. But then you haven't paid attention much to anyone these days. Except for Dillon Francis and Sonny or what the fuck's his stage name even? That's obsession, I think. No, that's actually the magic. How? Remember, that coincidences don't even exist? And all the random happenstances, like the shit you might have missed, as in: The album Occult Classic, which came out on OWSLA is, a song you love and danced all summer, and you went through all that shit because you fell in love with what the fuck, was Jon really in? Another thing to make you question which reality you're in: He might have been just “Jon”, a secret agent, or now that you're over it, some kind of fucking bampharmph who wants you as his president. That's never happening. Oh, if you live, believe it is. Because honey, look at Sonny: Money wants what money gets, and money gets whatever money wants--whatever that thing is and Occult Classic seems to be the real that all the magic is. Imagine if those doctors that fucked up your life had best interests, rather than investments in the pockets of the rich. And if you haven't noticed by now, this is bigger than it gets: there really are too many sides, and you're the central target. All this is, is that you either fucking live or fucking die-- And if you have to fucking write, then fine, just write it right this time. See there's a side that has investments in the interest that you die; And the otherside, which hopes you make the things that you've been writing. Don't forget the many people listening and watching right, at any time, where any webcam, or a subtle other eye, might pick up any of your actions, or the words you mutter, with the many mics and many minds--but never one alike the writer writing all these sides, just trying just to find the light. And what defines the difference between fan and future wife? Well, I would have to be his friend before admitting I were either; see, your wife should be your biggest fan, but ‘fan' isn't my title, when if anything, i'm after all this shit, a fucking vital in whatever makes this shit at all exist, and though he's just an idol I could never stand to idolize another human adult, nor do I blame him for making me so fucking suicidal; anot I take all the responsibility for where my mind goes, while he might have not been cogniscent enough to answer back at all--I always thought it looked like he was pushed into my tent, or like perhaps he might have fallen, and I just don't get at all, why after everything i've been through, it still matters at all. Because whatever happened in the tent still is, just as it is with Getter's set, if you remember was another entrance into the dimension which you vision in this body, but could enter , when you went and left your body, back at Audiotistic; and had your spirit really is some kind of speciality, which lets the living and the dead to do some crazy shit. So someone knows that you're a psychic,with a light inside projected in the eyes of those come seeking light, and live with good intentions. And your heart of hearts reacts to certain frequencies in music, though the language you remember as the origins of your origins. Origins which, as Chak Chel teaches may predate this planet. But Chak Chel was just a song you liked, on--Listen to that album. Now? Yes, go listen to The Origins, Bass Music is Power. Now isn't that much better than repeating Midnight Hour? But the everything of everything suggests it comes around, with time and patience, maybe everything works itself out. But what about Chak Chel-- A strange collision, this one? Yes, I didn't know her spirit was so motherfucking ancient, it just kind of unraveled as it merged with me, which honestly is creepy--but I dig it. But she doesn't really say much if my body is mistreated. All the processed food and poisons fuck her up… Which is why you ditch this country and you flee to somewhere decent, where you write the rest of this and just eat mangoes by the beach; kid. Kid, wait, who is this addressing ‘me' as fucking “kid” This is the tired, broken spirit, being poisoned in this shit. I hate this whole entire life of yourse, now mine, until you fucking die; go back to somewhere you can sit and meditate; go contemplate the ancient art of human sacrifice. That might be nice, trust me, I've been trying. You've been sitting and complaining about everything, never trying. Have you even thought that maybe, if you try, you'll find your guy? He is not my guy. No, he's your whatever you like; the love you keep inside your heart, your soul, your spirit all combined are something which resulted in a saga that you're writing; that you've already completed, even, if you can imagine it--even if it's meant as ‘infinite”, the plot itself is final. Final maybe, buti'm starting to project what it might look like if I send it off, and never get it read--or even on the shorter term of things, I just can't organize it all, in order to present it. Though you might resent it, if your guy is not your guy, well--try the other guy. But no one is my guy, I'm just alone and want to die. Then how does that explain the wild party Gerald had at Dillons? Had you noticed the banana, or the other hints when watching it the first time? No, I hadn't even noticed. Someone's sending you a message, it's impressive and you know it. I'll admit, it is impressive--and it's strange, that Dillon Francis has this magic and a range of characters and happenstances that all help to set the stage; it kind of gives me hope or something. But, what is that? Turn the page. I have been turning pages, turning over rocks, which makes me think: I'm living under one, with this whole entire thing-- I mean-- I gave up all my music, fasted, never counted days, and ended up climbing up a mountain, where the nature came to me: and I tried to run from everything, but Sonny followed me; between his mother, then Avicii it was like the spirits pleading, but I couldn't even think with all the callings calling me; the butterflies— and then advice from Gods I worshipped on my knees and cried, The final Prophecy revealed a terrifying secret, and the staff I carried with me as a walking stick just planted, pounding out upon the giant rock, an Omen on it's own, as I was told to go unfold the whole of what was shown, to fucking DJ Dillon Francis, a man I don't even know. But Dillon Francis makes you laugh. He's funny, yeah, I know. But I was fasting, praying, meditating deeply for sometime, I didn't count, but weeks, and maybe even reaching past a month or so--who knows? It didn't matter, I had stopped paying attention to my phone. I ran up on the mountain to be left alone, for days no matter where I'd go, i'd just be followed. Sitting on the mountain peak, I sighed a sigh of great relief, ask asked for peace, and praying, pleading just to die--or nap at least; The answer, which, with instant and in anger from a voice I only know as “God”, who of course is no stranger, but not normally so quick to respond, or speak at all--if ever. Prayers are typically answered over some time, it could be years before God hears them; but (s)/he keeps a watchful eye. This going up the mountain sounds like something you would write. Aha, that's right, but I was not--just talking the whole time; and all the while I realized someone else alive was actually hearing me, the whole entire time. Someone else, like who? I guess that's just as likely anybody with the right technology, your answer's as good as mine. Well, I don't have an answer, something's just not right. Something isn't right, it's Sonny--I just realy don't know why. What could be the something? Maybe, really, you're the why? The why I fasted for so long was so I just could try to let it go, and get away from it, I tried and tried and tried; I said I wouldn't end the fast, until I really could forget. So, then, what happened? You couldn't forget-- No instead, I just remembered burning as a witch; what it was like to be on fire, burning skin and all of it, as I looked at the mountain side, wondering who lit it and remembering the Gods who made the fire, and then gifted it, and everything the Gods inspired, human's thought was magic, and for sometime, even had the gifts, until they couldn't manage, and they acted in their savage primitive limited and rather Godless, doing for the Gods, some awful things, that made them leave them stranded on this planet; taking back the wisdom, and the gift of magic. But what about the magic that exists, that you believe in. It was only given back, sparingly in secret--I was told the story of a boy who needed it, in ancient times, just to survive as he was shunned by his village, who did violent things just threatened by the difference in his skin. Magic appeared because of racists? Because nobody could love him, they just couldn't understand the science in the evolution; But a God who loved humanity, gave magic as solution--which, as a reaction as the magic did consume him, ended in a definite conclusion, as he ran away and took away another which did suit him. Really? How did all this happen? Who told you and when? I don't have any control when it happens, The Gods speak and I listen. Or, I look--I just do what they say, or don't-say, they don't speak this any language; just existing in a form of consciousness, with lessons that I'm made to learn, reflect with introspection. So what happens in these ‘lessons'? Typically, it varies. Lessons could be something simple, to something that's really scary. What's something really scary? Most those visions, I keep private; thinking somehow they might be prevented, if I just ignore it. What do you mean by “visions”, seeing with your eyes? More like, glimpses into timelines I exist in through my life; eventually happening at some point I experience in life. So kind of like, a dream? More vivid than a dream--it's like, some people get Deja Vu-- I get that all the time. But these visions, are so vivid, rather Lucid, like an Astral Projection being played a hundred times, at once just so I can't forget; It stays fresh in my mind. This happens, when you're dreaming? When I was dreaming, mostly, early, as A child...but as I grew, they'd happen any time, it didn't matter, visions don't happen in my eyes--but more like, in the minds eye, maybe the third eye, with a light. So these “visions”, do they always happen in due time? That's exactly why they're visions, they are always right about whatever it is in them, sometimes even as reminders that whatever circumstance has happened several times, suggesting I have lived inside this lifeline, and this timeline different times--with lessons, messages, reminders--different actions, reactions, and choices which define and differentiate the visions from the time--which hopefully align with positive results...If I am lucky. What helps you differentiate between timelines? I don't. I just remember having already been in the situation, remembering precisely my choice from a separate time. So, these are memories? I guess, if memories mean I remember things that are currently happening, sometimes. Sometimes. It's the sometimes that seems to keep me out of another suicide, or attemp, which I honestly can comprehend, isn't something I actually lived through. Death, the master of illusion as he...is, or me, as I suppose was given as a title I lived in, after coming down the mountain. But then, once I went up the mountain, I never really came down--did I? Of course you did. You're here to tell it. Or tell no one, really, no one being, Dillon Francis. What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? My sentiments.. I practically exploded being given specific directions to somehow, go “find him.” Your sentiments, but not sentiments exactly? Perhaps, exactly, moreso and overwhelmingly and exhausted, having been considerably terrified after the many, many, almost too many revelations passed to me that day, which quickly turned to night, which I may have noticed was strikingly offset, by the time I managed to find my way down; that something had changed, making me lose my way. What changed? The sun had set, not west, which I was facing, but into the north instead. A Northern Sunset?! Nothing but subtle in the comparison of all that I had seen, the things that had been said and sent, I had been, yet again, not just an antenna but been asked, by some, and demanded by others, a series of tasks, to take back. Reconstruct man's commandments into commandments of the land, the protection of this planet as a sacred being; and being burdened to bear the curse, and keep the secret, seeking only one to which I might relay it. The One, being? If you haven't managed which is The One, I can't come to repeat it. You say, a curse, kept with a secret--that was what sent you down the mountain? No, that wasn't quite it....it was something so unsettling, as the universe as the outside world, so powerfully reflected in an instant manifestation, a response to a conclusion, which had barely formed as ‘thought', before being answered. I leapt into a panic, flying down the mountain, i'll admit, with newly-granted magic, which helped me down quite quickly. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

OWSLA Confidential 002 / Complications XXX - [Explocit Expectations] / “Pas De Cheval”

expectations copyright complications confidential cheval owsla

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 11, 2023 60:40

OWSLA Confidential 001 —Again..

copyright confidential owsla

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 10, 2023 63:47

[Fight Facilities]

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 10, 2023 60:42

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

god tv love jesus christ music new york fear time california money head game black new york city power art google ai hollywood man freedom las vegas work battle woman magic running nba building practice walk thinking dj home writing australian toronto stars japanese ny devil batman er victory loving minnesota creative missing leaving forever weddings write satan south open iphone emotions night unity tales salvation record watching fame champion cold driving sun run mcdonald wake holding touch mvp fight superman circle queens mail burn sexual honest flight caribbean skin campaign nightmare smile titanic mirror gotta rush doors lol souls pink vip rent levels proud fuck tower losers guys caught context diamond congratulations hide ritual destroy lonely actress bronx dreaming stockholm pants crying lovers shake bitch excuse infinite counting gross stopped rough entire shut void align djs wizards toy story calendar commander copyright beverly hills infinity shazam gem shirt alt repeat nah endless collecting mad get up facilities omg whole foods fascinating ze mixing cry acid r kelly shot sheffield wishes remind hailing laying flock goodnight platinum homer djing i love cc fucking admit alas experimental hocus pocus lips grew willy wonka clever daft punk shaking drill lost in translation technically blu graveyards rum robbed ey int welp dang nevermind kkk equinox wasting faux parallels toad cupid stripes scattered drifting destined fascists washed irony pleasant cardi lick diplo bob saget dip intermittent carrot morse hoes beggars im m sha parachutes skrillex indifference bong insomniacs delusions oh god ruff mmm ew hum impatience sexes clark kent oh my god aw shhh tribeca leaps deadmau5 big book overhead unworthy goddamn chiapas ignition flushing fucked laidback luke vandalism by god sniffing alarms planet fitness abort sunni shasta invisibility dreamed ascended masters hehe ito beg elaborate dillon francis synesthesia tbc sinking ship timmy trumpet fucks intervals downtown los angeles justin roiland aww oceana guitar center ext uhhh infiniti shh rah empanadas yeh okie glass animals evading uhh gobbler sleek w hotel la fitness sunn hot one playbill pad thai one girl voodoo dolls basketball court agh patrice o'neal new new york what the fuck god so shhhhhhh goddamned purple mattress 8i goddamnit afh illuminatus sam ash owsla folley superstar dj infi cous that love lysergic inbreds apple it what do you want from me michael there xanex i stay sonny moore bass canyon night you i'm alice midnight request line

OWSLA Confidential 003- ‘Somebody To Love'

copyright confidential somebody to love owsla

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 10, 2023 74:32

Ghastly | The XLNT Show #02

The XLNT Show

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 2, 2023 174:59

David Lee Crow, widely recognized by his stage name Ghastly (and now Ghengar), stands as an esteemed American DJ and record producer, hailing from Avondale, Arizona, and currently based in the vibrant city of Los Angeles, California. Throughout his illustrious career, Ghastly has made significant contributions to the electronic music landscape, with an impressive portfolio of releases on renowned labels like Owsla, Buygore, and Dim Mak.Among his notable works are collaborations that have left a lasting impact on the scene. One such standout track is "Miami Connection," a powerful collaboration with the talented Jauz that garnered widespread acclaim and solidified Ghastly's reputation as a force to be reckoned with in the industry. Additionally, the infectious hit "Crank It," created in collaboration with the gifted artists Mija and the iconic Lil Jon, further showcased his versatility and ability to craft crowd-pleasing anthems that resonate with audiences across the globe.As a true trailblazer in the world of electronic dance music, Ghastly continues to mesmerize listeners with his unique sound and energetic performances. His unwavering commitment to pushing the boundaries of his craft and connecting with his fans has earned him a dedicated following and a well-deserved place among the top-tier DJs and producers in the scene. And with his brand new project GHENGAR he is solidifying himself as a top tier artist in the EDM scene.Discover exclusive never-before-seen content from Ghastly on the 2nd episode of “The XLNT Show” where we discuss the grind of the music industry, trying DMT, the inception of GHENGAR, how to create a unique brand and much more!⭐️ #1 Sample & Preset Packs [Use code "THEXLNTSHOW" for 10% off your next purchase ⭐️bit.ly/XLNTSOUNDPACKS

california los angeles discover arizona djs edm dmt lil jon mija ghastly avondale jauz miami connection dim mak american dj owsla buygore

[The Synesthetic Experience.]

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 15, 2023 80:48

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

united states god tv love jesus christ new york fear time california money head game black new york city power art google ai hollywood freedom lost las vegas france battle woman talk magic running nba building practice walk dj home writing australian turning ny devil er mind loving minnesota creative leaving forever weddings losing write satan south open iphone night unity tales salvation record rome grammy watching fame champion cold driving broadway feelings run wake holding touch mvp fight superman heard manhattan circle legends queens sexual honest flight caribbean front skin campaign nightmare billion smile titanic honestly searching mirror rush doors lol souls pink vip renaissance housing rent levels proud fuck tower losers guys context congratulations wtf hide ritual destroy lonely actress bronx dreaming sequels stockholm pants crying lovers bitch excuse infinite revelations counting gross rough entire shut void align djs toy story calendar commander copyright beverly hills infinity shazam shirt repeat nah endless collecting mad get up omg lighting whole foods fascinating ze acid awful r kelly shot sheffield hailing californians flock homer cc fucking admit experimental hocus pocus lips sasquatch grew willy wonka clever daft punk shaking drill jimmy fallon blu graveyards rum ey int welp dang nevermind equinox faux parallels toad swear cupid scattered washed irony pleasant cardi lick diplo bob saget handsome carrot christopher columbus revolutions hoes beggars im m parachutes skrillex indifference bong insomniacs oh god ruff mmm ew hum sexes clark kent oh my god aw shhh leaps deadmau5 big book overhead goddamn ignition flushing fucked by god sniffing planet fitness sunni shasta realizations invisibility dreamed ascended masters hehe ito beg sequences jeez elaborate dillon francis tbc sinking ship timmy trumpet fucks intervals downtown los angeles justin roiland aww oceana guitar center ext uhhh infiniti shh fred again empanadas yeh rumbling glass animals evading uhh sleek w hotel coughs la fitness sunn whippets one girl voodoo dolls basketball court jetro psh agh patrice o'neal sports club what the fuck god so shhhhhhh goddamned purple mattress 8i goddamnit afh illuminatus in brooklyn sam ash owsla i suck folley superstar dj infi cous that love lysergic not exactly synesthetic what do you want from me xanex sonny moore i stay night you midnight request line

[Objective//Subjective.]

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 12, 2023 34:39

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 imm 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 iMm 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 thisis 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 broklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— 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.l 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. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

god tv love jesus christ new york money head game new york city power google hollywood woman magic running nba building walk home ny devil er forever write south open iphone night unity tales salvation record fame driving run wake holding fight superman circle queens sexual honest flight skin smile lol levels fuck losers guys context congratulations hide ritual destroy lovers excuse gross void align djs calendar copyright beverly hills shirt repeat nah endless get up omg fascinating ze acid r kelly shot sheffield hailing fucking admit experimental lips clever blu graveyards int welp objective nevermind parallels pleasant bob saget carrot beggars skrillex indifference subjective oh god ew clark kent oh my god aw shhh leaps deadmau5 overhead goddamn ignition flushing by god sunni shasta dreamed ascended masters hehe ito elaborate dillon francis tbc timmy trumpet oceana ext shh empanadas yeh glass animals evading uhh sleek w hotel one girl basketball court patrice o'neal god so shhhhhhh purple mattress 8i goddamnit illuminatus owsla superstar dj that love lysergic what do you want from me xanex sonny moore night you midnight request line

OWSLA Confidential Exclusive Pt. I - “1:15 Again..”

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 18, 2023 64:15

Computer too full to function but here's this anyway. its 1:15 Again.. “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 thisis 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.) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

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OWSLA Confidential Exclusive Pt. I - “1:15 Again..”

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 18, 2023 64:15

Computer too full to function but here's this anyway. its 1:15 Again.. “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 thisis 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.) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

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Dr. Fresch interviewed on the Mobile Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions 4/28/23

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 29, 2023 15:09

Dr. Fresch interviewed on the Mobile Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions 4/28/23 About Dr. Fresch - In 2013 after winning Insomniac's Discovery Project Contest, Tony Fresch launched the Dr. Fresch brand. His debut self-titled EP and innovative hip-hop/rap remixes quickly exploded in the blogosphere. Shortly thereafter, Dr. Fresch was subsequently featured at #9 on Billboard Magazine's “Next Big Sound” Chart. His music weaves together elements of house, hip-hop/rap, and midtempo to create a unique, forward-thinking sound. Over the summer of 2015, Dr. Fresch launched his semi-monthly mix series “House Call” which has since garnered tens of millions of plays. Each installment features a 30 minute Dr. Fresch mix followed by a 30 minute guest mix and is featured on Sirius XM on Mondays. Dr. Fresch's 2016 collaboration with Baby Eazy-E (Eazy-E's son) “Gangsta Gangsta” went viral online and climbed the UK Club Charts setting the tone for his future releases. Dr. Fresch has since released records on the likes of OWSLA, Insomniac Records, Atlantic, Ministry of sound. He continues to play a prominent role on the festival circuit with plays at likes of EDC Las Vegas, Paradiso, Moonrise, Electric Forest, CRSSD, Splash House, Osheaga, Shambhala and more. In early 2018, Dr. Fresch released his collaboration with Bijou and Denzel Curry entitled “Revelation” on Insomniac Records. He released his sophomore EP in July of 2018. The lead single “Fire” has gone on to be a hit in the festival and club scene while raking up millions of plays online. Dr. Fresch started off 2019 with the launch of his new record label, which released a debut compilation featuring over ten artists. This was followed up by his G-House collaboration EP with Bijou and an official remix for Rico Nasty. 2020's big shift has led to a focus on music. At the top of the year Dr. Fresch released a 21 track compilation album, “The Remedy Volume 2,” featuring 23 other prominent house artists. Dr. Fresch quickly followed up with his second EP “It Don't Stop” with the hip-hop legend, Andre Nickatina. About The DJ Sessions - “The DJ Sessions” is a Twitch/Mixcloud "Featured Partner” live streaming/podcast series featuring electronic music DJ's/Producers via live mixes/interviews and streamed/distributed to a global audience. TheDJSessions.com The series constantly places in the “Top Ten” on Twitch Music and the “Top Five” in the “Electronic Music", “DJ", "Dance Music" categories. TDJS is rated in the Top 0.11% of live streaming shows on Twitch out of millions of live streamers. It has also been recognized by Apple twice as a "New and Noteworthy” podcast and featured three times in the Apple Music Store video podcast section. UStream and Livestream have also listed the series as a "Featured" stream on their platforms since its inception. The series is also streamed live to multiple other platforms and hosted on several podcast sites. It has a combined live streaming/podcast audience is over 125,000 viewers per week. With over 2,400 episodes produced over the last 12 years "The DJ Sessions" has featured international artists such as: BT, Youngr, Sevenn, Wuki, Scott Slyter, Simply City, Micke, Netsky, Rich DietZ, Bexxie, Boris, MJ Cole, Flipside, Skeeter, Bissen, Katie Chonacas, Hollaphonic, Lady Waks, Arty/Alpha 9, Miri Ben-Ari, DJ Ruby, DJ Colette, Nima Gorji, Kaspar Tasane, Andy Caldwell, Party Shirt, Plastik Funk, ENDO, John Tejada, Hoss, DJ Sash U, Arkley, Bee Bee, Cozmic Cat, Superstar DJ Keoki, Crystal Waters, Swedish Egil, Martin Eyerer, Dezarate, Maddy O'Neal, Sonic Union, Lea Luna, Belle Humble, Marc Marzenit, AthenaLuv, Maximillian, Inkfish, Kidd Mike, Michael Anthony, They Kiss, Downupright, Harry “the Bigdog” Jamison, DJ Tiger, DJ Aleksandra, 22Bullets, Carlo Astuti, Mr Jammer, Kevin Krissen, Amir Sharara, Coke Beats, Danny Darko, DJ Platurn, Tyler Stone, Chris Coco, Purple Fly, Dan Marciano, Johan Blende, Amber Long, Robot Koch, Robert Babicz, KHAG3, Elohim, Hausman, Jaxx & Vega, Yves V, Ayokay, Leandro Da Silva, The Space Brothers, Jarod Glawe, Jens Lissat, Lotus, Beard-o-Bees, Luke the Knife, Alex Bau, Arroyo Low, Camo & Crooked, ANG, Amon Tobin, Voicians, Florian Kruse, Dave Summit, Bingo Players, Coke Beats, MiMOSA, Drasen, Yves LaRock, Ray Okpara, Lindsey Stirling, Mako, Distinct, Still Life, Saint Kidyaki, Brothers, Heiko Laux, Retroid, Piem, Tocadisco, Nakadia, Protoculture, Sebastian Bronk, Toronto is Broken, Teddy Cream, Mizeyesis, Simon Patterson, Morgan Page, Jes, Cut Chemist, The Him, Judge Jules, DubFX, Thievery Corporation, SNBRN, Bjorn Akesson, Alchimyst, Sander Van Dorn, Rudosa, Hollaphonic, DJs From Mars, GAWP, Somna, David Morales, Roxanne, JB & Scooba, Spektral, Kissy Sell Out, Massimo Vivona, Moullinex, Futuristic Polar Bears, ManyFew, Joe Stone, Reboot, Truncate, Scotty Boy, Doctor Nieman, Jody Wisternoff, Thousand Fingers, Benny Bennasi, Dance Loud, Christopher Lawrence, Oliver Twizt, Ricardo Torres, Patricia Baloge, Alex Harrington, 4 Strings, Sunshine Jones, Elite Force, Revolvr, Kenneth Thomas, Paul Oakenfold, George Acosta, Reid Speed, TyDi, Donald Glaude, Jimbo, Ricardo Torres, Hotel Garuda, Bryn Liedl, Rodg, Kems, Mr. Sam, Steve Aoki, Funtcase, Dirtyloud, Marco Bailey, Dirtmonkey, The Crystal Method, Beltek, Darin Epsilon, Kyau & Albert, Kutski, Vaski, Moguai, Blackliquid, Sunny Lax, Matt Darey, and many more. In addition to featuring international artists TDJS focuses on local talent based on the US West Coast. Hundreds of local DJ's have been featured on the show along with top industry professionals. We have recently launched v3.1 our website that now features our current live streams/past episodes in a much more user-friendly mobile/social environment. In addition to the new site, there is a mobile app (Apple/Android) and VR Nightclubs (VR Chat). About The DJ Sessions Event Services - TDJSES is a 501c3 Non-profit charitable organization that's main purpose is to provide music, art, fashion, dance, and entertainment to local and regional communities via events and video production programming distributed via live and archival viewing. For all press inquiries regarding “The DJ Sessions”, or to schedule an interview with Darran Bruce, please contact us at info@thedjsessions.

interview dj brothers fire ministry revelation twitch atlantic livestream hundreds bees broken boris knife top ten beard producers sirius xm ang strings lotus bt elohim insomniacs distinct dance music electronic music noteworthy mako paradiso endo flipside mimosa still life house calls hoss denzel curry michael anthony bijou bingo players jammer david morales billboard magazine yves v ustream micke crystal waters shambhala plastik funk skeeter jody wisternoff moonrise rico nasty simon patterson leandro da silva thievery corporation piem maximillian matt darey nieman protoculture florian kruse hausman g house netsky wuki sevenn truncate bissen darin epsilon moullinex edc las vegas tocadisco mj cole robert babicz electric forest martin eyerer john tejada us west coast space brothers manyfew yves larock gawp amber long apple android andy caldwell 22bullets christopher lawrence osheaga beebee hollaphonic bryn liedl robot koch owsla nakadia jens lissat bjorn akesson sonic union ricardo torres danny darko heiko laux reid speed kutski beltek chris coco funtcase youngr retroid crssd bexxie marc marzenit tyler stone dj ruby dj sessions voicians insomniac records simply city jaxx vega ray okpara revolvr lady waks vaski nima gorji inkfish arkley splash house dave summit dezarate belle humble lea luna swedish egil party shirt jarod glawe spektral miri ben ari sebastian bronk carlo astuti dj platurn darran bruce dan marciano apple music store mobile sessions

Dr. Fresch's Exclusive Mix on the Mobile Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions 4/28/23

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 29, 2023 49:11

Dr. Fresch's Exclusive Mix on the Mobile Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions 4/28/23 About Dr. Fresch - In 2013 after winning Insomniac's Discovery Project Contest, Tony Fresch launched the Dr. Fresch brand. His debut self-titled EP and innovative hip-hop/rap remixes quickly exploded in the blogosphere. Shortly thereafter, Dr. Fresch was subsequently featured at #9 on Billboard Magazine's “Next Big Sound” Chart. His music weaves together elements of house, hip-hop/rap, and midtempo to create a unique, forward-thinking sound. Over the summer of 2015, Dr. Fresch launched his semi-monthly mix series “House Call” which has since garnered tens of millions of plays. Each installment features a 30 minute Dr. Fresch mix followed by a 30 minute guest mix and is featured on Sirius XM on Mondays. Dr. Fresch's 2016 collaboration with Baby Eazy-E (Eazy-E's son) “Gangsta Gangsta” went viral online and climbed the UK Club Charts setting the tone for his future releases. Dr. Fresch has since released records on the likes of OWSLA, Insomniac Records, Atlantic, Ministry of sound. He continues to play a prominent role on the festival circuit with plays at likes of EDC Las Vegas, Paradiso, Moonrise, Electric Forest, CRSSD, Splash House, Osheaga, Shambhala and more. In early 2018, Dr. Fresch released his collaboration with Bijou and Denzel Curry entitled “Revelation” on Insomniac Records. He released his sophomore EP in July of 2018. The lead single “Fire” has gone on to be a hit in the festival and club scene while raking up millions of plays online. Dr. Fresch started off 2019 with the launch of his new record label, which released a debut compilation featuring over ten artists. This was followed up by his G-House collaboration EP with Bijou and an official remix for Rico Nasty. 2020's big shift has led to a focus on music. At the top of the year Dr. Fresch released a 21 track compilation album, “The Remedy Volume 2,” featuring 23 other prominent house artists. Dr. Fresch quickly followed up with his second EP “It Don't Stop” with the hip-hop legend, Andre Nickatina. About The DJ Sessions - “The DJ Sessions” is a Twitch/Mixcloud "Featured Partner” live streaming/podcast series featuring electronic music DJ's/Producers via live mixes/interviews and streamed/distributed to a global audience. TheDJSessions.com The series constantly places in the “Top Ten” on Twitch Music and the “Top Five” in the “Electronic Music", “DJ", "Dance Music" categories. TDJS is rated in the Top 0.11% of live streaming shows on Twitch out of millions of live streamers. It has also been recognized by Apple twice as a "New and Noteworthy” podcast and featured three times in the Apple Music Store video podcast section. UStream and Livestream have also listed the series as a "Featured" stream on their platforms since its inception. The series is also streamed live to multiple other platforms and hosted on several podcast sites. It has a combined live streaming/podcast audience is over 125,000 viewers per week. With over 2,400 episodes produced over the last 12 years "The DJ Sessions" has featured international artists such as: BT, Youngr, Sevenn, Wuki, Scott Slyter, Simply City, Micke, Netsky, Rich DietZ, Bexxie, Boris, MJ Cole, Flipside, Skeeter, Bissen, Katie Chonacas, Hollaphonic, Lady Waks, Arty/Alpha 9, Miri Ben-Ari, DJ Ruby, DJ Colette, Nima Gorji, Kaspar Tasane, Andy Caldwell, Party Shirt, Plastik Funk, ENDO, John Tejada, Hoss, DJ Sash U, Arkley, Bee Bee, Cozmic Cat, Superstar DJ Keoki, Crystal Waters, Swedish Egil, Martin Eyerer, Dezarate, Maddy O'Neal, Sonic Union, Lea Luna, Belle Humble, Marc Marzenit, AthenaLuv, Maximillian, Inkfish, Kidd Mike, Michael Anthony, They Kiss, Downupright, Harry “the Bigdog” Jamison, DJ Tiger, DJ Aleksandra, 22Bullets, Carlo Astuti, Mr Jammer, Kevin Krissen, Amir Sharara, Coke Beats, Danny Darko, DJ Platurn, Tyler Stone, Chris Coco, Purple Fly, Dan Marciano, Johan Blende, Amber Long, Robot Koch, Robert Babicz, KHAG3, Elohim, Hausman, Jaxx & Vega, Yves V, Ayokay, Leandro Da Silva, The Space Brothers, Jarod Glawe, Jens Lissat, Lotus, Beard-o-Bees, Luke the Knife, Alex Bau, Arroyo Low, Camo & Crooked, ANG, Amon Tobin, Voicians, Florian Kruse, Dave Summit, Bingo Players, Coke Beats, MiMOSA, Drasen, Yves LaRock, Ray Okpara, Lindsey Stirling, Mako, Distinct, Still Life, Saint Kidyaki, Brothers, Heiko Laux, Retroid, Piem, Tocadisco, Nakadia, Protoculture, Sebastian Bronk, Toronto is Broken, Teddy Cream, Mizeyesis, Simon Patterson, Morgan Page, Jes, Cut Chemist, The Him, Judge Jules, DubFX, Thievery Corporation, SNBRN, Bjorn Akesson, Alchimyst, Sander Van Dorn, Rudosa, Hollaphonic, DJs From Mars, GAWP, Somna, David Morales, Roxanne, JB & Scooba, Spektral, Kissy Sell Out, Massimo Vivona, Moullinex, Futuristic Polar Bears, ManyFew, Joe Stone, Reboot, Truncate, Scotty Boy, Doctor Nieman, Jody Wisternoff, Thousand Fingers, Benny Bennasi, Dance Loud, Christopher Lawrence, Oliver Twizt, Ricardo Torres, Patricia Baloge, Alex Harrington, 4 Strings, Sunshine Jones, Elite Force, Revolvr, Kenneth Thomas, Paul Oakenfold, George Acosta, Reid Speed, TyDi, Donald Glaude, Jimbo, Ricardo Torres, Hotel Garuda, Bryn Liedl, Rodg, Kems, Mr. Sam, Steve Aoki, Funtcase, Dirtyloud, Marco Bailey, Dirtmonkey, The Crystal Method, Beltek, Darin Epsilon, Kyau & Albert, Kutski, Vaski, Moguai, Blackliquid, Sunny Lax, Matt Darey, and many more. In addition to featuring international artists TDJS focuses on local talent based on the US West Coast. Hundreds of local DJ's have been featured on the show along with top industry professionals. We have recently launched v3.1 our website that now features our current live streams/past episodes in a much more user-friendly mobile/social environment. In addition to the new site, there is a mobile app (Apple/Android) and VR Nightclubs (VR Chat). About The DJ Sessions Event Services - TDJSES is a 501c3 Non-profit charitable organization that's main purpose is to provide music, art, fashion, dance, and entertainment to local and regional communities via events and video production programming distributed via live and archival viewing. For all press inquiries regarding “The DJ Sessions”, or to schedule an interview with Darran Bruce, please contact us at info@thedjsessions.

dj brothers fire ministry revelation twitch atlantic livestream hundreds bees broken boris knife top ten beard producers sirius xm ang strings lotus bt elohim insomniacs distinct dance music electronic music noteworthy mako paradiso endo flipside mimosa still life house calls hoss denzel curry michael anthony bijou bingo players jammer david morales billboard magazine yves v ustream micke crystal waters shambhala plastik funk skeeter jody wisternoff moonrise rico nasty simon patterson leandro da silva exclusive mix thievery corporation piem maximillian matt darey nieman protoculture florian kruse hausman g house netsky wuki sevenn truncate bissen darin epsilon moullinex edc las vegas tocadisco mj cole robert babicz electric forest martin eyerer john tejada us west coast space brothers manyfew yves larock gawp amber long apple android andy caldwell 22bullets christopher lawrence osheaga beebee hollaphonic bryn liedl robot koch owsla nakadia bjorn akesson jens lissat sonic union ricardo torres danny darko heiko laux reid speed kutski beltek chris coco funtcase youngr retroid crssd bexxie marc marzenit tyler stone dj ruby dj sessions voicians insomniac records simply city jaxx vega ray okpara revolvr lady waks vaski nima gorji inkfish arkley splash house dave summit dezarate belle humble lea luna swedish egil party shirt jarod glawe spektral miri ben ari sebastian bronk carlo astuti dj platurn darran bruce dan marciano apple music store mobile sessions

Episode 265: [Aired: APR.28] - Side A feat. HVRCRFT, Deeprumor, Juke Ellington, and more

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 29, 2023 28:00

Future/Sound® with CUSCINO is a weekly, nationally-syndicated radio mixshow produced, hosted and curated by iTunes-charting DJ and music producer CUSCINO. The weekly radio show features a continuous mix of progressive trap, FutureTrap, FutureBass and urban/hiphop artists exploring new sonic ground, challenging sonic boundaries, and creating new movements in sound across the globe.Known as a tastemaker, SoCal's CUSCINO takes listeners on an hour-long musical journey each week through the freshest selections and newest releases from bleeding-edge bass-centric artists, producers and DJs worldwide like RL Grime, NGHTMRE, Party Favor, UZ, Noise Cans, Yellow Claw and many more.Not one for genre boundaries, CUSCINO shows his growing listener base that the lines between the origins of hip-hop and today's trap & futureBass are even more blurry than we think.Learn more about the show, what FM stations it is currently aired on, and how to become an affiliate station here.This Week's Playlist:ell!psis – Low OrbitYULA – CollideLeah Culver – OctoberThred – ManifestJuke Ellington – Flow In / Thathard Network X Electrostep Network ReleaseDeeprumor – BOOPS / Riddim Network & Electrostep NetworkBielov – Follow Me / Simplify.Kanallia – Helichrysum / Future Bass RecordsVolition – That Grind ft. Noise Boys / YANA Music98.20.11 – Waste Away / Hybrid TrapJuke Ellington & Stephanno – Gloria PlaisirLidez x Double K – It Goes / Hard NationViperactive – Kill The LightsTitomahi – No FearPavosh – X-TraRay Volpe – LASERBEAM ft. ADVM BOMBHVRCRFT – BRINGS THE BASS / Riddim Network & Electrostep NetworkD-Sabber x INSPIRA – Fight VIP / Simplify.Toronto Is Broken – The Moment (Corrupted Mind Remix) / FiXT Music FutureSoundRadio.comConnect with CUSCINO at:Twitter.com | HUDL Music (@CUSCINO) | Instagram (@ThatCuscinoSound) | YouTube | Soundcloud | FacebookWant to become an affiliate station for Future/Sound®?Contact Keith at FutureSound@radio-linx.com or call 480.993.3150 for details

Episode 265: [Aired: APR.28] - Side B feat. HVRCRFT, Deeprumor, Juke Ellington, and more

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 29, 2023 27:59

Future/Sound® with CUSCINO is a weekly, nationally-syndicated radio mixshow produced, hosted and curated by iTunes-charting DJ and music producer CUSCINO. The weekly radio show features a continuous mix of progressive trap, FutureTrap, FutureBass and urban/hiphop artists exploring new sonic ground, challenging sonic boundaries, and creating new movements in sound across the globe.Known as a tastemaker, SoCal's CUSCINO takes listeners on an hour-long musical journey each week through the freshest selections and newest releases from bleeding-edge bass-centric artists, producers and DJs worldwide like RL Grime, NGHTMRE, Party Favor, UZ, Noise Cans, Yellow Claw and many more.Not one for genre boundaries, CUSCINO shows his growing listener base that the lines between the origins of hip-hop and today's trap & futureBass are even more blurry than we think.Learn more about the show, what FM stations it is currently aired on, and how to become an affiliate station here.This Week's Playlist:ell!psis – Low OrbitYULA – CollideLeah Culver – OctoberThred – ManifestJuke Ellington – Flow In / Thathard Network X Electrostep Network ReleaseDeeprumor – BOOPS / Riddim Network & Electrostep NetworkBielov – Follow Me / Simplify.Kanallia – Helichrysum / Future Bass RecordsVolition – That Grind ft. Noise Boys / YANA Music98.20.11 – Waste Away / Hybrid TrapJuke Ellington & Stephanno – Gloria PlaisirLidez x Double K – It Goes / Hard NationViperactive – Kill The LightsTitomahi – No FearPavosh – X-TraRay Volpe – LASERBEAM ft. ADVM BOMBHVRCRFT – BRINGS THE BASS / Riddim Network & Electrostep NetworkD-Sabber x INSPIRA – Fight VIP / Simplify.Toronto Is Broken – The Moment (Corrupted Mind Remix) / FiXT Music FutureSoundRadio.comConnect with CUSCINO at:Twitter.com | HUDL Music (@CUSCINO) | Instagram (@ThatCuscinoSound) | YouTube | Soundcloud | FacebookWant to become an affiliate station for Future/Sound®?Contact Keith at FutureSound@radio-linx.com or call 480.993.3150 for details

Dr Fresch on the On Locations Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions at Decadence 12/31/22

The Stress Factor Drum and Bass Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 1, 2023

Dr Fresch on the On Locations Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions at Decadence 12/31/22 About Dr Fresch - In 2013 after winning Insomniac's Discovery Project Contest, Tony Fresch launched the Dr. Fresch brand. His debut self-titled EP and innovative hip-hop/rap remixes quickly exploded in the blogosphere. Shortly thereafter, Dr. Fresch was subsequently featured at #9 on Billboard Magazine's “Next Big Sound” Chart. His music weaves together elements of house, hip-hop/rap, and midtempo to create a unique, forward-thinking sound. Over the summer of 2015, Dr. Fresch launched his semi-monthly mix series “House Call” which has since garnered tens of millions of plays. Each installment features a 30 minute Dr. Fresch mix followed by a 30 minute guest mix and is featured on Sirius XM on Mondays. Dr. Fresch's 2016 collaboration with Baby Eazy-E (Eazy-E's son) “Gangsta Gangsta” went viral online and climbed the UK Club Charts setting the tone for his future releases. Dr. Fresch has since released records on the likes of OWSLA, Insomniac Records, Atlantic, Ministry of sound. He continues to play a prominent role on the festival circuit with plays at likes of EDC Las Vegas, Paradiso, Moonrise, Electric Forest, CRSSD, Splash House, Osheaga, Shambhala and more. In early 2018, Dr. Fresch released his collaboration with Bijou and Denzel Curry entitled “Revelation” on Insomniac Records. He released his sophomore EP in July of 2018. The lead single “Fire” has gone on to be a hit in the festival and club scene while raking up millions of plays online. Dr. Fresch started off 2019 with the launch of his new record label, which released a debut compilation featuring over ten artists. This was followed up by his G-House collaboration EP with Bijou and an official remix for Rico Nasty. 2020's big shift has led to a focus on music. At the top of the year Dr. Fresch released a 21 track compilation album, “The Remedy Volume 2,” featuring 23 other prominent house artists. Dr. Fresch quickly followed up with his second EP “It Don't Stop” with the hip-hop legend, Andre Nickatina. About The DJ Sessions - “The DJ Sessions” is a Twitch/Mixcloud "Featured Partner” live streaming/podcast series featuring electronic music DJ's/Producers via live mixes/interviews and streamed/distributed to a global audience. TheDJSessions.com The series constantly places in the “Top Ten” on Twitch Music and the “Top Five” in the “Electronic Music", “DJ", "Dance Music" categories. TDJS is rated in the Top 0.11% of live streaming shows on Twitch out of millions of live streamers. It has also been recognized by Apple twice as a "New and Noteworthy” podcast and featured three times in the Apple Music Store video podcast section. UStream and Livestream have also listed the series as a "Featured" stream on their platforms since its inception. The series is also streamed live to multiple other platforms and hosted on several podcast sites. It has a combined live streaming/podcast audience is over 125,000 viewers per week. With over 2,400 episodes produced over the last 12 years "The DJ Sessions" has featured international artists such as: BT, Youngr, Sevenn, Wuki, Scott Slyter, Simply City, Micke, Netsky, Rich DietZ, Bexxie, Boris, MJ Cole, Flipside, Skeeter, Bissen, Katie Chonacas, Hollaphonic, Lady Waks, Arty/Alpha 9, Miri Ben-Ari, DJ Ruby, DJ Colette, Nima Gorji, Kaspar Tasane, Andy Caldwell, Party Shirt, Plastik Funk, ENDO, John Tejada, Hoss, DJ Sash U, Arkley, Bee Bee, Cozmic Cat, Superstar DJ Keoki, Crystal Waters, Swedish Egil, Martin Eyerer, Dezarate, Maddy O'Neal, Sonic Union, Lea Luna, Belle Humble, Marc Marzenit, AthenaLuv, Maximillian, Inkfish, Kidd Mike, Michael Anthony, They Kiss, Downupright, Harry “the Bigdog” Jamison, DJ Tiger, DJ Aleksandra, 22Bullets, Carlo Astuti, Mr Jammer, Kevin Krissen, Amir Sharara, Coke Beats, Danny Darko, DJ Platurn, Tyler Stone, Chris Coco, Purple Fly, Dan Marciano, Johan Blende, Amber Long, Robot Koch, Robert Babicz, KHAG3, Elohim, Hausman, Jaxx & Vega, Yves V, Ayokay, Leandro Da Silva, The Space Brothers, Jarod Glawe, Jens Lissat, Lotus, Beard-o-Bees, Luke the Knife, Alex Bau, Arroyo Low, Camo & Crooked, ANG, Amon Tobin, Voicians, Florian Kruse, Dave Summit, Bingo Players, Coke Beats, MiMOSA, Drasen, Yves LaRock, Ray Okpara, Lindsey Stirling, Mako, Distinct, Still Life, Saint Kidyaki, Brothers, Heiko Laux, Retroid, Piem, Tocadisco, Nakadia, Protoculture, Sebastian Bronk, Toronto is Broken, Teddy Cream, Mizeyesis, Simon Patterson, Morgan Page, Jes, Cut Chemist, The Him, Judge Jules, DubFX, Thievery Corporation, SNBRN, Bjorn Akesson, Alchimyst, Sander Van Dorn, Rudosa, Hollaphonic, DJs From Mars, GAWP, Somna, David Morales, Roxanne, JB & Scooba, Spektral, Kissy Sell Out, Massimo Vivona, Moullinex, Futuristic Polar Bears, ManyFew, Joe Stone, Reboot, Truncate, Scotty Boy, Doctor Nieman, Jody Wisternoff, Thousand Fingers, Benny Bennasi, Dance Loud, Christopher Lawrence, Oliver Twizt, Ricardo Torres, Patricia Baloge, Alex Harrington, 4 Strings, Sunshine Jones, Elite Force, Revolvr, Kenneth Thomas, Paul Oakenfold, George Acosta, Reid Speed, TyDi, Donald Glaude, Jimbo, Ricardo Torres, Hotel Garuda, Bryn Liedl, Rodg, Kems, Mr. Sam, Steve Aoki, Funtcase, Dirtyloud, Marco Bailey, Dirtmonkey, The Crystal Method, Beltek, Darin Epsilon, Kyau & Albert, Kutski, Vaski, Moguai, Blackliquid, Sunny Lax, Matt Darey, and many more. In addition to featuring international artists TDJS focuses on local talent based on the US West Coast. Hundreds of local DJ's have been featured on the show along with top industry professionals. We have recently launched v3.1 our website that now features our current live streams/past episodes in a much more user-friendly mobile/social environment. In addition to the new site, there is a mobile app (Apple/Android) and VR Nightclubs (Oculus). About The DJ Sessions Event Services - TDJSES is a WA State Non-profit charitable organization that's main purpose is to provide music, art, fashion, dance, and entertainment to local and regional communities via events and video production programming distributed via live and archival viewing. For all press inquiries regarding “The DJ Sessions”, or to schedule an interview with Darran Bruce, please contact us at info@thedjsessions.

apple dj brothers fire toronto ministry revelation twitch atlantic reboot livestream hundreds bees broken boris knife top ten beard producers sirius xm ang locations strings lotus bt steve aoki elohim insomniacs jimbo distinct dance music electronic music noteworthy mako paradiso endo flipside mimosa still life house calls deca dence paul oakenfold hoss denzel curry moguai michael anthony bijou bingo players jammer david morales billboard magazine morgan page yves v ustream micke crystal waters shambhala plastik funk somna skeeter jody wisternoff joe stone lindsey stirling moonrise rico nasty simon patterson leandro da silva thievery corporation piem maximillian matt darey nieman futuristic polar bears tydi rodg protoculture florian kruse hausman crystal method djs from mars snbrn g house netsky wuki sevenn truncate bissen darin epsilon moullinex edc las vegas tocadisco marco bailey mj cole robert babicz electric forest martin eyerer john tejada us west coast space brothers manyfew yves larock scotty boy george acosta amon tobin sunny lax judge jules gawp kenneth thomas amber long apple android andy caldwell 22bullets christopher lawrence osheaga beebee hollaphonic elite force cut chemist robot koch bryn liedl owsla jens lissat bjorn akesson nakadia kyau albert sonic union ricardo torres danny darko heiko laux alex bau reid speed kutski beltek rudosa chris coco dub fx funtcase retroid youngr crssd bexxie alchimyst marc marzenit tyler stone dj ruby dj sessions hotel garuda voicians insomniac records oliver twizt jaxx vega simply city kissy sell out ray okpara lady waks revolvr vaski nima gorji inkfish arkley splash house dave summit donald glaude belle humble dezarate dirtyloud lea luna sunshine jones swedish egil party shirt jarod glawe spektral miri ben ari carlo astuti sebastian bronk darran bruce dj platurn dan marciano mizeyesis dance loud apple music store

Stress Factor Podcast 300 Part 1 - DJ B-12 - December 2022 Drum and Bass Studio Mix

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 25, 2022

Hello and welcome to the long awaited Stress Factor Podcast episode 300 Part 1! We would like to wish you and your family a very Merry Chritmas, Happy Hanukkah and an amazing New Year 2023. Not only is this episode 300, but it's also been 13 years in the making because we celebrate our 13th birthday on January 1, 2023. This is going be a 5 part Best Of episode featuring the entire Stress Factor Crew including DJ B-12, DjR1, Scottie B, Ste-J and Tribo, all to be released between Christmas and New Years. For Part 1, we have DJ B-12 with a blistering 3-Hour long, 106 track best of megamix that is sure to knock your socks off. Brian has dug really deep for this one going back through all this old shows from as far back as our humble begins in 2010. Most of these tracks are from what he likes to call the "Golden Age of New Drum and Bass" 2010-2016. The tracklist can be found anywhere but Soundcloud, they don't provide enough space for text to include it. You can find it anywhere else you find this podcast including Simplecast, Apple Podcast, Google Podcast, Tune-In Radio, iHeartRadio, Amazon and various other places you can find and subscribe to us. We really hope you enjoy this very special episode and all of its parts. Don't forget to keep as eye out for all of them. Links below will take you there. You can also download the full 320k MP3 from Soundcloud hidden under "more". This mix contains tracks by, remixed by and on these labels: Sub Jams, Cozi, Drumsound, Bassline Smith, 3beat Records, Gemini, Beta Recordings, Spectrasoul, DLR, Shogun Audio, Kove, Program, Seba, 31 Records, Unknown Artist, Fokuz Recordings, Six Blade, Viper Recordings, S.P.Y, Diane Charlemagne, Hospital Records, Total Science, Riya, Guru Groove Foundation, Mr. Frenkie, Radio Record, Media Land, Metrik, Friction, Culture Shock, Furlonge, Ram Records, The Erised, Bop, Med School, Bad Robot, Subsonik Sound, Brookes Brothers, Breakbeat Kaos, Calyx, TeeBee, Chords, Metro Recordings, Hamilton , Maverick Sabre, Delta Heavy, Mercury, Monsta, Skrillex, Nero, OWSLA, Phace, Neosignal Recordings, Fono, TC Bootleg, Alix Perez, Noisia, Die, Interface, William Cartwright, Lenzman Remix, Clear Skyz, DC Breaks, Above and Beyond, Richard Bedford, Zardonic, Wilkinson, Cube, Nu Electro, Indivision, Livewire, Have-A-Break Recordings, Rudimental, Foxes, Andy, Nookie, Rowpieces, Phuzion Digital, BCee, Rocky Nti, Spearhead Records, Metalheadz Platinum, Fred V, Grafix, Cyantific , Bladerunner, Dread, Fenech Soler, Trippcore, Delta Heavy, Jem Cooke, Loadstar, Matrix, Futurebound, Tanya Lacey, Koncept, All Around The World Limited, Etherwood, McLean , Asylum Records, Blu Mar Ten, Blu Mar Ten Music, Flit, Liquicity Records, Faithless 2.0, High Contrast, Cheeky Records, Enei, Sam Wills, Critical Music, Technimatic, SGNLTD, Dexcell, Katie's Ambition, Mind Vortex, Rusko, Amber Coffman, Sub Focus, Downtown Records, Alex Clare, EMI], Logistics, NuLogic, Ivy Lab, Hydro, Frank Carter III, Lucy Annika, Let It Roll, Keeno, Subwave, Metalheadz, Julio Bashmore, TC Bootleg, Jupiter Ace, DC Breaks, Big Vision Records, Mediks, Astronaut, Audioporn, Offaiah, 1991, Positiva, Tantrum Desire, The Prototypes, Technique Recordings, 4am, Pilot Records, Unreal, Sign Of The Times Records, Ella Eyre, Virgin Records, Blinkie, Grimm, Jason Burns, Sarah Winters, Love and Other, GMorozov , Ownglow, Bianca, , Sway, Mr Hudson, TC, 3beat Records, John B feat, Ayah Marar, Kiro, Subsonik, Icicle, DJ Fresh, DJ Marky, Ministry of Sound UK, Grades, One More Tune. Tracklist 01. Sub Jams feat. Cozi - Ricochet (Drumsound & Bassline Smith Remix) [3beat Records] [2011] 02. Gemini - Without You [Beta Recordings] [2011] 03. Spectrasoul - Sometimes We Lie... (DLR Remix) [Shogun Audio] [2013] 04. Kove - Gone [Program] [2013] 05. Seba - Keep Me Waiting [31 Records] [2010] 06. Unknown Artist - Bass Controlla [Fokuz Recordings] [2016] 07. Six Blade - Electric [Viper Recordings] [2013] 08. S.P.Y - Hammer in My Heart (feat. Diane Charlemagne)[Hospital Records] [2012] 09. Total Science feat. Riya - See Your Face [Shogun Audio] [2013] 10. Guru Groove Foundation - Golden Love (Mr. Frenkie Remix) [Radio Record, Media Land] [2015] 11. Metrik and Friction - Legacy [Hospital Records] [2014] 12. Culture Shock - Surprise feat. Furlonge [Ram Records] [2010] 13. The Erised - Pray (Bop remix) [Med School] [2016] 14. Bad Robot - Deep End [Subsonik Sound] [2010] 15. Brookes Brothers - Snowman [Breakbeat Kaos] [2011] 16. Calyx and TeeBee - Elevate This Sound [Ram Records] [2012] 17. Chords - Video Soul [Metro Recordings] [2012] 18. Hamilton - Deep In My Heart [Ram Records] [2012] 19. Hamilton - Overdrive [Ram Records] [2013] 20. Hamilton - The Way I Feel [Ram Records] [2013] 21. Maverick Sabre - I Used To Have It All (Delta Heavy Remix) [Mercury] [2012] 22. Monsta - Holdin' On (Skrillex and Nero Remix) [OWSLA] [2012] 23. Phace - Basic Memory [Neosignal Recordings] [2011] 24. Fono - Real Joy (TC Bootleg) [Not On A Label] [2013] 25. Alix Perez - Loose Ends (feat. Noisia) [Shogun Audio] [2010] 26. Die and Interface ft. William Cartwright - Bright Lights (Lenzman Remix) [Clear Skyz] [2010] 27. DC Breaks - Halo [Viper Recordings] [2010] 28. Above and Beyond ft. Richard Bedford - Sun Moon (Zardonic Remix) [NO LABEL] [2011] 29. Wilkinson - Tonight [Ram Records] [2013] 30. Hamilton - Believe in Me [Ram Records] [2018] 31. Cube - Metrolovers [Nu Electro] [2010] 32. Brookes Brothers - Last Night (unreleased version) [Breakbeat Kaos] [2010] 33. Indivision and Livewire - Apologies [Have-A-Break Recordings] [2010] 34. Rudimental - Right Here feat. Foxes (Andy C Remix) [Asylum] [2013] 35. Camo and Krooked feat. Shaz Sparks - Mind Is Drifting Away (VIP Mix Dub) [AEI] [2011] 36. Culture Shock - Raindrops [Ram Records] [2014] 37. Metrik - Drift [Viper Recordings] [2012] 38. Hamilton - Push [Ram Records] [2013] 39. Metrik - Freefall (feat. Reija Lee) [Viper Recordings] [2012] 40. Cube - Night Trip [Nu Electro] [2010] 41. Robin S - Show Me Love (High Contrast Bootleg) [Not On A Label] [2010] 42. Sigma - Baltimore feat. Jenna G [Breakbeat Kaos] [2010?] 43. BMotion and Chords - Discotheque [Viper Recordings] [2014] 44. Frankee - Deep Down Feat. Caan [Ram Records] [2015] 45. Nookie - A Drum, A Bass, and A Piano (Rowpieces Remix) [Phuzion Digital] [2013] 46. BCee - Into The Blue feat. Rocky Nti (Chords Remix) [Spearhead Records] [2014] 47. Lenzman - Masquerade [Metalheadz Platinum] [2011] 48. Fred V and Grafix - Just a Thought (feat. Reija Lee) [Viper Recordings] [2012] 49. Cyantific - Touch Me [Ram Records] [2011] 50. Bladerunner - Feel for You (VIP) [Dread] [2013] 51. Fenech Soler - Demons (TrippcoreRMX) [NOT ON A LABEL] [2011] 52. Camo and Krooked - Climax [Hospital Records] [2010] 53. Delta Heavy x Jem Cooke - Heaven (Extended) [Delta Heavy] [2022] 54. Loadstar - Lancelot [Ram Records] [2013] 55. Matrix and Futurebound - Don't Look Back (feat. Tanya Lacey) (Koncept Remix) [All Around The World Limited] [2014] 56. Etherwood - Begin By Letting Go [Med School] [2013] 57. McLean - Finally In Love (Camo and Krooked Remix) [Asylum Records] [2010] 58. Blu Mar Ten - Overwhelm (Seba Remix) [Blu Mar Ten Music] [2010] 59. Flite - Colorless [Liquicity Records] [2014] 60. Faithless 2.0 - Muhammad Ali 2.0 (High Contrast Remix) [Cheeky Records] [2015] 61. Enei featuring Sam Wills - Circles [Critical Music] [2013] 62. Etherwood - We're Nothing Without Love feat. SPY (Ivy Lab Remix) [Med School] [2013] 63. Technimatic - Frozen Leaves [SGNLTD] [2013] 64. Dexcell - Close Your Eyes (Ft. Katie's Ambition) [Beta Recordings] [2013] 65. Mind Vortex - Alive [Ram Records] [2013] 66. Rusko - Hold On ft. Amber Coffman (Sub Focus Remix) [Downtown Records] [2010] 67. Sub Focus (Feat Alex Clare) - Endorphins (Fred V and Grafix Remix) [EMI] [2013] 68. Logistics - We Are One (NuLogic Remix) [Hospital Records] [2012] 69. Ivy Lab and Hydro - Make It Clear (feat. Frank Carter III and Lucy Annika) [Let It Roll] [2015] 70. Lenzman - Rags To Riches [SGNLTD] [2010] 71. Keeno - Nocturne [Medschool] [2013] 72. Subwave - Ubik [Metalheadz] [2010] 73. Gemini - Destiny [Beta Recordings] [2011] 74. S.P.Y - Dusty Fingers feat. Diane Charlemagne [Hospital Records] [2014] 75. Julio Bashmore - Au Seve (TC Bootleg) [2013] 76. Unknown Artist - The Worst [Fokuz Recordings] [2016] 77. Jupiter Ace - Glowing In The Dark Feat. Geneva Lane (DC Breaks Remix) [Big Vision Records] [2012] 78. Mediks feat. Astronaut - Blown Away [Audioporn] [2012] 79. Offaiah - Trouble (1991 Remix) [Positiva] [2016] 80. Tantrum Desire - Reach (The Prototypes Remix) [Technique Recordings] [2019] 81. 4am - Wanted (Chords Remix) [Pilot Records] [2014] 82. Unreal - Enduro (feat. S.P.Y) [Hospital Records] [2016] 83. Kove - Open Ground [ProgRam] [2012] 84. Lenzman - How Did I Let U Go (feat. Riya) [Metalheadz] [2012] 85. Brookes Brothers - Tear You Down [Breakbeat Kaos] [2008] 86. Foxes - Holding Onto Heaven (Kove Remix) [Sign Of The Times Records] [2014] 87. Ella Eyre - Together (Kove Remix) [Virgin Records] [2015] 88. Blinkie - Don't Give Up (On Love) (Frankee Remix) [Ram Records] [2015] 89. S.P.Y. - Cold Harsh Air feat. Total Science and Grimm [Hospital Records] [2015] 90. Riya - Fear Bites (VIP) [Spearhead Records] [2015] 91. Jason Burns and Sarah Winters - Lightweight (Chords Remix) [Love and Other] [2015] 92. DC Breaks - Shaman VIP [Ram Records] [2013] 93. GMorozov - Internet = Hate [Nu Electro] [2010] 94. Ownglow - Gold [Pilot Records] [2014] 95. Camo and Krooked - Skyline [Beta Recordings] [2010] 96. DC Breaks - Faithless feat Bianca [Ram Records] [2015] 97. Sway feat. Mr Hudson - Charge (TC Remix) [3beat Records] [2012] 98. John B feat Shaz Sparks - Red Sky [Beta Recordings] [2007] 99. Indivision and Livewire feat. Tasha Baxter - Won't You Stay [Have-A-Break] [2011] 100. John B - Send My Love To Mother Russia [Beta Recordings] [2012] 101 Camo and Krooked - Cross the Line (feat. Ayah Marar) (Metrik Remix) [Hospital Records] [2012] 102. Kiro vs Subsonik - Hold On [Subsonik Sound] [2009] 103. John B ft. Shaz Sparks - Shining In The Dark (Extended Mix) [Beta Recordings] [2012] 104. Icicle - Nausea [Shogun Audio] [2011] 105. DJ Fresh Feat. Ella Eyre - Gravity (DJ Marky Remix) [Ministry of Sound UK] [2015] 106. Grades - King (Culture Shock Remix) [One More Tune] [2015]

christmas love amazon new year stress ministry hamilton matrix new years soundcloud records apple podcast google podcasts ambition factor bass mercury golden age blade runner nero gemini astronauts logistics grades muhammad ali cube grimm dread friction mclean unreal wilkinson foxes sway faithless interface emi my heart positiva skrillex culture shock hydro fono camo bop seba happy hanukkah med school chords tunein radio livewire john b prototypes dlr simplecast rudimental riya rusko drum and bass dj fresh virgin records sub focus bad robot frenkie jem cooke nookie koncept calyx icicle noisia kiro maverick sabre ella eyre tribo high contrast dj b offaiah metrik kove alix perez monsta enei krooked erised fred v total science dj marky studio mix metalheadz bcee drumsound unknown artist phace alex clare futurebound ivy lab keeno let it roll delta heavy grafix teebee hospital records dc breaks spectrasoul flit technimatic radio record richard bedford cozi etherwood ayah marar asylum records bassline smith cyantific julio bashmore owsla loadstar tantrum desire brookes brothers jason burns zardonic blu mar ten subwave shogun audio audioporn ram records blinkie sam wills dexcell indivision sub sonik critical music diane charlemagne sound uk mind vortex new drum viper recordings scottie b fokuz recordings bmotion amber coffman frank carter iii spearhead records rowpieces mediks ownglow one more tune offaiah trouble technique recordings on skrillex jupiter ace breakbeat kaos six blade rocky nti monsta holdin metrik freefall cheeky records furlonge metalheadz platinum spectrasoul sometimes we lie liquicity records bladerunner feel krooked cross brookes brothers last night hydro make it clear

Wuki on the Virtual Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions 10/07/22

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 7, 2022

Wuki on the Virtual Sessions presented by The DJ Sessions 10/07/22 About Wuki - Wuki is the genre-blending solo project of Denver-based producer Kris Barman. Influenced by the sounds of Detroit ghettotech and Chicago footwork scenes, Barman's ability to seamlessly mix booty, breaks, electro, and house into hard-hitting club-shakers has become a trademark of the Wuki sound. The Mile High City resident has earned releases and remixes for notable imprints such as OWSLA, Main Course, Fool's Gold, and Ultra - not to mention support from the likes of Knife Party, Skrillex, and Rolling Stone Magazine. About The DJ Sessions - “The DJ Sessions” is a Twitch/Mixcloud "Featured Partner” live streaming/podcast series featuring electronic music DJ's/Producers via live mixes/interviews and streamed/distributed to a global audience. TheDJSessions.com The series constantly places in the “Top Ten” on Twitch Music and the “Top Five” in the “Electronic Music", “DJ", "Dance Music" categories. TDJS is rated in the Top 0.11% of live streaming shows on Twitch out of millions of live streamers. It has also been recognized by Apple twice as a "New and Noteworthy” podcast and featured three times in the Apple Music Store video podcast section. UStream and Livestream have also listed the series as a "Featured" stream on their platforms since its inception. The series is also streamed live to multiple other platforms and hosted on several podcast sites. It has a combined live streaming/podcast audience is over 125,000 viewers per week. With over 2,400 episodes produced over the last 12 years "The DJ Sessions" has featured international artists such as: BT, Youngr, Sevenn, Bexxie, Boris, MJ Cole, Flipside, Skeeter, Bissen, Katie Chonacas, Hollaphonic, Lady Waks, Arty/Alpha 9, Miri Ben-Ari, DJ Ruby, DJ Colette, Nima Gorji, Kaspar Tasane, Andy Caldwell, Party Shirt, Plastik Funk, ENDO, John Tejada, Hoss, DJ Sash U, Arkley, Bee Bee, Cozmic Cat, Superstar DJ Keoki, Crystal Waters, Swedish Egil, Martin Eyerer, Dezarate, Maddy O'Neal, Sonic Union, Lea Luna, Belle Humble, Marc Marzenit, AthenaLuv, Maximillian, Inkfish, Kidd Mike, Michael Anthony, They Kiss, Downupright, Harry “the Bigdog” Jamison, DJ Tiger, DJ Aleksandra, 22Bullets, Carlo Astuti, Mr Jammer, Kevin Krissen, Amir Sharara, Coke Beats, Danny Darko, DJ Platurn, Tyler Stone, Chris Coco, Purple Fly, Dan Marciano, Johan Blende, Amber Long, Robot Koch, Robert Babicz, KHAG3, Elohim, Hausman, Jaxx & Vega, Yves V, Ayokay, Leandro Da Silva, The Space Brothers, Jarod Glawe, Jens Lissat, Lotus, Beard-o-Bees, Luke the Knife, Alex Bau, Arroyo Low, Camo & Crooked, ANG, Amon Tobin, Voicians, Florian Kruse, Dave Summit, Bingo Players, Coke Beats, MiMOSA, Drasen, Yves LaRock, Ray Okpara, Lindsey Stirling, Mako, Distinct, Still Life, Saint Kidyaki, Brothers, Heiko Laux, Retroid, Piem, Tocadisco, Nakadia, Protoculture, Sebastian Bronk, Toronto is Broken, Teddy Cream, Mizeyesis, Simon Patterson, Morgan Page, Jes, Cut Chemist, The Him, Judge Jules, DubFX, Thievery Corporation, SNBRN, Bjorn Akesson, Alchimyst, Sander Van Dorn, Rudosa, Hollaphonic, DJs From Mars, GAWP, Somna, David Morales, Roxanne, JB & Scooba, Spektral, Kissy Sell Out, Massimo Vivona, Moullinex, Futuristic Polar Bears, ManyFew, Joe Stone, Reboot, Truncate, Scotty Boy, Doctor Nieman, Jody Wisternoff, Thousand Fingers, Benny Bennasi, Dance Loud, Christopher Lawrence, Oliver Twizt, Ricardo Torres, Patricia Baloge, Alex Harrington, 4 Strings, Sunshine Jones, Elite Force, Revolvr, Kenneth Thomas, Paul Oakenfold, George Acosta, Reid Speed, TyDi, Donald Glaude, Jimbo, Ricardo Torres, Hotel Garuda, Bryn Liedl, Rodg, Kems, Mr. Sam, Steve Aoki, Funtcase, Dirtyloud, Marco Bailey, Dirtmonkey, The Crystal Method, Beltek, Darin Epsilon, Kyau & Albert, Kutski, Vaski, Moguai, Blackliquid, Sunny Lax, Matt Darey, and many more. In addition to featuring international artists TDJS focuses on local talent based on the US West Coast. Hundreds of local DJ's have been featured on the show along with top industry professionals. We have recently launched v3.1 our website that now features our current live streams/past episodes in a much more user-friendly mobile/social environment. In addition to the new site, there is a mobile app (Apple/Android) and VR Nightclubs (Oculus). About The DJ Sessions Event Services - TDJSES is a WA State Non-profit charitable organization that's main purpose is to provide music, art, fashion, dance, and entertainment to local and regional communities via events and video production programming distributed via live and archival viewing. For all press inquiries regarding “The DJ Sessions”, or to schedule an interview with Darran Bruce, please contact us at info@thedjsessions.

chicago apple dj brothers gold toronto detroit twitch virtual fool reboot livestream hundreds bees broken boris knife top ten beard producers ang influenced strings lotus bt denver colorado skrillex steve aoki elohim jimbo distinct dance music electronic music noteworthy mako endo flipside rolling stone magazine mimosa still life paul oakenfold hoss moguai michael anthony bingo players jammer david morales morgan page yves v barman ustream crystal waters plastik funk somna main course skeeter knife party jody wisternoff joe stone lindsey stirling simon patterson leandro da silva thievery corporation piem maximillian matt darey nieman futuristic polar bears tydi rodg protoculture florian kruse hausman crystal method snbrn djs from mars wuki sevenn truncate bissen darin epsilon moullinex tocadisco marco bailey mj cole robert babicz martin eyerer john tejada us west coast space brothers manyfew yves larock scotty boy george acosta amon tobin sunny lax judge jules gawp kenneth thomas amber long apple android andy caldwell 22bullets christopher lawrence beebee hollaphonic cut chemist elite force bryn liedl robot koch owsla nakadia bjorn akesson jens lissat kyau albert sonic union ricardo torres danny darko heiko laux alex bau reid speed kutski beltek dub fx rudosa chris coco funtcase youngr retroid alchimyst bexxie marc marzenit tyler stone dj ruby dj sessions hotel garuda voicians oliver twizt jaxx vega kissy sell out ray okpara lady waks revolvr vaski inkfish nima gorji arkley donald glaude dave summit belle humble dezarate dirtyloud swedish egil sunshine jones lea luna party shirt jarod glawe spektral carlo astuti sebastian bronk miri ben ari dj platurn darran bruce dan marciano mizeyesis dance loud apple music store

Episode 264: [Aired: SEPT.16] - Side B feat. Nazaar, Capshun, Lidez, BSTN, and more

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 20, 2022 28:00

Future/Sound® with CUSCINO is a weekly, nationally-syndicated radio mixshow produced, hosted and curated by iTunes-charting DJ and music producer CUSCINO. The weekly radio show features a continuous mix of progressive trap, FutureTrap, FutureBass and urban/hiphop artists exploring new sonic ground, challenging sonic boundaries, and creating new movements in sound across the globe.Known as a tastemaker, SoCal's CUSCINO takes listeners on an hour-long musical journey each week through the freshest selections and newest releases from bleeding-edge bass-centric artists, producers and DJs worldwide like RL Grime, NGHTMRE, Party Favor, UZ, Noise Cans, Yellow Claw and many more.Not one for genre boundaries, CUSCINO shows his growing listener base that the lines between the origins of hip-hop and today's trap & futureBass are even more blurry than we think.Learn more about the show, what FM stations it is currently aired on, and how to become an affiliate station here.This Week's Playlist:Isaak – So GoodShyGhy – Spring AwakeningBillie Eilish – Bellyache (xelu. Remix)P3PPER x purpoze – Sirius / InextremisKaivon – Hollywood Hillsonte – medicinethéos x that boi retrol x MCTR – any goodEASTGHOST – Only Onecapshun – LostNazaar – Love Burns (Blaize Remix)BSTN – NatureLidez x Double K – It Goes / Hard NationTequila Funk – Jungle TripTitomahi – No FearPavosh – X-TraNomis – Transcending RealityRay Volpe – LASERBEAM ft. ADVM BOMBHVRCRFT – S4Buyaka – Eater FutureSoundRadio.comConnect with CUSCINO at:Twitter.com | HUDL Music (@CUSCINO) | Instagram (@ThatCuscinoSound) | YouTube | Soundcloud | FacebookWant to become an affiliate station for Future/Sound®?Contact Keith at FutureSound@radio-linx.com or call 480.993.3150 for details

dj trap bass djs electronic edm socal diplo dubstep skrillex side b uz yellow claw party favors future sound nghtmre rl grime future bass flosstradamus mad decent owsla cuscino noise cans aired sept nazaar

Episode 264: [Aired: SEPT.16] - Side A feat. Nazaar, Capshun, Lidez, BSTN, and more

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 20, 2022 28:00

Future/Sound® with CUSCINO is a weekly, nationally-syndicated radio mixshow produced, hosted and curated by iTunes-charting DJ and music producer CUSCINO. The weekly radio show features a continuous mix of progressive trap, FutureTrap, FutureBass and urban/hiphop artists exploring new sonic ground, challenging sonic boundaries, and creating new movements in sound across the globe.Known as a tastemaker, SoCal's CUSCINO takes listeners on an hour-long musical journey each week through the freshest selections and newest releases from bleeding-edge bass-centric artists, producers and DJs worldwide like RL Grime, NGHTMRE, Party Favor, UZ, Noise Cans, Yellow Claw and many more.Not one for genre boundaries, CUSCINO shows his growing listener base that the lines between the origins of hip-hop and today's trap & futureBass are even more blurry than we think.Learn more about the show, what FM stations it is currently aired on, and how to become an affiliate station here.This Week's Playlist:Isaak – So GoodShyGhy – Spring AwakeningBillie Eilish – Bellyache (xelu. Remix)P3PPER x purpoze – Sirius / InextremisKaivon – Hollywood Hillsonte – medicinethéos x that boi retrol x MCTR – any goodEASTGHOST – Only Onecapshun – LostNazaar – Love Burns (Blaize Remix)BSTN – NatureLidez x Double K – It Goes / Hard NationTequila Funk – Jungle TripTitomahi – No FearPavosh – X-TraNomis – Transcending RealityRay Volpe – LASERBEAM ft. ADVM BOMBHVRCRFT – S4Buyaka – Eater FutureSoundRadio.comConnect with CUSCINO at:Twitter.com | HUDL Music (@CUSCINO) | Instagram (@ThatCuscinoSound) | YouTube | Soundcloud | FacebookWant to become an affiliate station for Future/Sound®?Contact Keith at FutureSound@radio-linx.com or call 480.993.3150 for details

dj trap bass djs electronic edm socal diplo dubstep skrillex uz yellow claw party favors future sound nghtmre rl grime future bass flosstradamus mad decent owsla cuscino noise cans aired sept nazaar

Episode 263: [Aired: AUG.12] - Side A feat. Ray Volpe, HVRCRFT, ELEX, Komplvint, and more