Podcasts about Sike

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

-- English description at the end --Hey hey la gang! Aujourd'hui nous sommes fieres de vous présenter un épisode très spéciale -- Behind le bar en français. On discute d'un album par un groupe Québécois classique, Break Syndical par les Cowboys fringants. Sortez votre Duolingo (ou relaxer pour nos francophones) et apprenez un peux de culture populaire Québécoise avec nous. On fait un break down des instruments traditionnel de la nouvelle écosse ainsi que la compréhensibilité des paroles tres vites.--SIKE ain't no English this episode, tough

Hello! Why, we haven't seen you since you were just a baby! Knee high to a grasshopper! Thanks for taking us in while we convalesce, it should only take a little while...    Folks, we're back this week (maybe just this week? maybe more??) to talk Zach Cregger's WEAPONS (2025), the trials and tribulations of being face blind for Josh Brolin, and our favorite Whitest Kids You Know sketches. Join us! And leave us a rating and review if you want us to come back for good!   Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/youroldpalkelly.bsky.social Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: Pedro Pascal's slutty little boots Whitest Kids You Know - Gallon of PCP Whitest Kids You Know - 7 Hot Dogs Whitmer Thomas music video Side Stories Zach Cregger interview Fire Walk With Me - Woman in Red Cindy Sherman   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads    

Originally Aired July 23, 2025: Rock sock attack. SIKE! Everything you've ever wanted to know about how gorgeous you are... NOT! Listen & subscribe to the show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or Amazon Music. For more, visit https://www.93x.com/half-assed-morning-show/Follow the Half-Assed Morning Show:Twitter/X: @93XHAMSFacebook: @93XHAMSInstagram: @93XHAMSEmail the show: HAMS93X@gmail.com See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jenny has a list of jokes, No Phone Screener Friday, and more!

Jenny has a list of jokes, No Phone Screener Friday, and more!

Jenny has a list of jokes, No Phone Screener Friday, and more!

NFL Free Agency started off with a massive bang...what moves do the guys like and dislike (21:21)? How do these moves change their view on the upcoming fantasy season? (1:00:00)NBA/Unrivaled (1:09:07), WWE (1:35:26), and a ton of jokes wrap up another great show!   Don't forget to submit your questions to the guys at speakonitpod14@gmail.com so they can answer them during the next show!  Follow the squad!! @losdeemix @dannyocean41 @goingfor2live  @speakonit_pod (Twitter, Tik Tok, and Instagram)

Knippa Saves The World - Season 6

In H.R. we trust. Sike! If you take away anything from this episode it’s that a company’s human resources department isn't here to teach you your rights, and it’s never too early to learn them yourself. As the only employment lawyer in the maternity space, Daphne Delvaux is committed to helping women protect their jobs and get paid. Known as the ‘mamattorney,’ Daphne has an extensive track record of putting big corporations on blast for discrimination and achieving 6- and 7- figure settlements, all while rocking a velvet suit. From pregnancy to postpartum, she’s letting us in on all her secrets of motherhood amid the release of her upcoming book Mom’s In Labor. This series was created in partnership with Flourish Ventures, an early-stage global investment firm backing mission-driven entrepreneurs and industry influencers working toward a fair financial system for all. Learn more at flourishventures.com. Stay up to date with us on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram at @LemonadaMedia. You can find Daphne @themamattorney on Instagram and her website. Joining Lemonada Premium is a great way to support our show and get bonus content. Subscribe today at bit.ly/lemonadapremium. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Listen to our hosts Ray and Trex dive into the politics behind the TikTok ban. Stay tuned until the end of the episode to hear their live reaction to the unbanning as it happened mid-recording, you don't want to miss it! Keep up with the show on: TikTokYouTube

Sike! TikTok is back! Catalina and Dena dive in with creators like @supacarson, @high5ifyourestillalive, @ashley..farrell, @kesha, and @joolieannie reacting to the extremely short lived ban, the “since we're all going to die” secrets trend, and uneasy return by many to the platform. Dena shares what's up on her FYP, including the Ohio State Dance team (@superiiorcheer), @badgurlmimi shouting out her most loyal follower, and @momlifestlouis53 eating peaches. Catalina highlights @brettneyspears's commentary on what's amiss on the platform, bizarre ads she's getting, and a video by @jegskaltapadeg about Olivia Rodrigo. Wrapping up, Dena shares an NYC video by @annie.bao about a day spent trying viral food places in the city.

Hoffmann, Jule www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Lesart

Hoffmann, Jule www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Lesart

Knock knock knock! Open up! There's someone inside your house, they went in while you weren't looking.  We're discussing ODDITY (2024) this week, a jigsaw puzzle of a supernatural murder mystery. It feels like cozying up with a classic whodunnit book and a cup of tea and we think you'll like it.   Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kellyattaway.bsky.social Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: Director's short films   Join us back here in two weeks to discuss STRANGE DARLING (2024), starring our fave, Kyle Gallner :)   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

Hellooooo we're talking SMILE 2 (2024) this week and no spoilers but we frigging loved it.  Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kellyattaway.bsky.social Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Lukas Gage tiny apartment audition https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARZBRcQztG4 Jeremy Selenfriend's ig - Lukas Gage prosthetics (graphic) https://www.instagram.com/p/DD7OwyduTiQ/?img_index=1 Smile 2 Skye Riley EP we can't stop listening to https://open.spotify.com/album/53i6qzqYuhIhcpVTVu0dW3 A behind the scenes video but I recommend watching pretty much any of them https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x1Ebo_YZV8 Join us back here in two weeks to discuss ODDITY (2024)! Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

Picture it: A sunny fall day. You're about to bite into the juiciest, crispiest, most delicious apple you've ever tasted. SIKE! You've opened a can of Fuji Apple flavored Spindrift. It's Sparkling Water AND Real Fruit. Because, allegedly, "real fruit tastes better". Music by Steven O'Brien.

Hey how are you doing today? Do you feel good? Are you feeling good about yourself? If not, have I got the product for you - a lil substance you can inject to spawn a hotter version of yourself who will ruin your life. Are you interested?  We're talking THE SUBSTANCE (2024), a very weird and disgusting and delightful film we can not recommend highly enough. Don't cheat yourself out of watching this without spoilers! And ladies, remember - you're more than just one b00b Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kellyattaway.bsky.social Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing  Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads    

Helloooo and welcome back to the show! We're discussing THE CROW (2024), THE CROW (1994), and _The Crow_ (1989) this week, and folks? Folks??? We've got opinions. And we want to hear yours! Who would you cast in a gender-bent remake of this iconic classic? Find us on socials @NoShowMonster or email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com! Also we recorded this before Tony Todd passed, RIP, we wouldn't have brushed past his role in this film so brusquely without acknowledging that. He was a treasure and the world is poorer without him.   Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kellyattaway.bsky.social Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: Slam Dunk (Da Funk) music video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZUZx-8--0c FIFTH ELEMENT blue lady opera ("Diva Song") https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnTE2h0ZY74 and if you wanna jump to where it really starts to slap, here you go Debut Buddies episode about THE CONNECTION (1961) https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/first-found-footage-film-1961-1980/id1439741573?i=1000668855473 YouTube video by matttt that Chelsea referenced https://youtu.be/x0P08GVreIc?si=QtJeGQBFYG8pMwmm   Join us back in here two weeks to discuss THE SUBSTANCE (2024), a frigging wild trip you should absolutely take. See you then!   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads      

Congrats to Kamala Harris! Endorsements, voters, vigilantes! Full coverage! Sike! GOP candidate uses fake family to appear wholesome, Tucker gets attacked by a demon, and a woman sued a company for being nice about the farewell card!  SUBSCRIBE! As always! Make sure you rate, review, and on iTunes! Steal your friends and family's phones while you're at it, to do so on as many devices as possible. Follow all of ya boys on Instagram @mitchellfillup @robotspencer @beamjeremy  @rootsoflaughter Hit us on Instagram or email therootsoflaughter@gmail.com with suggestions, corrections, comments, updates, or good old-fashioned hate mail! Remember also to go check out and share hatsoffglovesoff.com

It's the review you've all been waiting for!!!! So many people reached out and wondered when our Otaku Elf episode was coming out because they were so excited to hear our thoughts!!! Strap in everyone, it's going to be a wild ride!! Review Starts at 1 hour and 32 minutes.SIKE! We're back from break, and we're well rested and getting back into the swing of things so enjoy this chill episode about all the stuff that we did on break and lots of current events and current anime chat! Thanks for sticking with us through our very last-minute, much longer-than-intended break!Check us out on our website: Https://www.otakuhostclub.comChat with us in between episodes on our Discord server: https://discord.gg/VZWCpsMvmR and check us out on our Instagram @otakuhostclub --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/the-otaku-host-club/support

Episode 220 - We are quitting: The final episodeIn this episode, we talk about:Quitting announcement. SIKE!!!The Lagos Trip and experiencesSnows Wedding Intense DiarrhoeaAnd Much MoreShare your thoughts with us and lets keep the conversation going! Our playlist - shorturl.at/blvEW Follow us on TikTok: @wyhapodFollow us on Instagram: @wyhapodFollow us on Twitter: @wyhapod Watch the full episode on YouTube: WYHA Podcast Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Ayyyyyyyy join us this week in space to discuss ALIEN: ROMULUS (2024)! We recorded this before the election so please ignore that part where we dared to be hopeful and focus on the part where we talked about how awful this year has been. But you know what's not awful? This movie! We liked it a lot! Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kellyattaway.bsky.social Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Join us back in two weeks to discuss THE CROW (2024) and also quite a lot of THE CROW (1994) and even some _The Crow_ (1989)   Happy spookies!   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads    

Helllloooooo this week we're talking about Tilman Singer's CUCKOO (2024), a bonkers little flick we highly recommend. And do you know what, it maybe generated a revelation, an evolution if you will, if the show's thesis? Neat! Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kellyattaway.bsky.social Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: Next Best Picture podcast interview with Dan Stevens and Tilman Singer Friend of the show Kylan Savage's Church Jams Now!   Come on back in two weeks to discuss ALIEN: ROMULUS (2024) with us!   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

Sike!!!! We have another episode to end season 2. Take a listen to our story about what happened at the block party!

70 x 7 is a good benchmark to forgive, according to the Bible. But is that really practical in the real world especially when dealing with relationships? Find out how forgiveness panned out for my guest on this week's episode of The Feeling Station

Cuckoo!! Cuckoo!!!!!! Your dear old friends of a friend are back to talk LONGLEGS (2024), the movie we've all been waiting for!!! You can feel the excitement in this episode because we are a little bit all over the place, so think of this as one of our classic shootin' the sh*t episodes and join us as we pin all this red yarn to our cork board.   Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kellyattaway.bsky.social Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: In-universe crime blog thebirthdaymurders.net The queer horror documentary Kelly couldn't recall the name of - Queer for Fear: The History of Queer Horror Season of the Witch: How the Occult Saved Rock and Roll https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Season_of_the_Witch:_How_the_Occult_Saved_Rock_and_Roll IndieWire article about rock and roll, T-Rex, and hidden messages https://www.indiewire.com/features/interviews/longlegs-t-rex-nicolas-cage-look-hidden-messages-1235024841/ Join is back here in two weeks to discuss CUCKOO (2024)! Happy spookies!   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads    

Send us a textOkay, you glorious, healthy MFer ... You're doing “everything” and nothing's working???Well, you're in your midlife—time to accept the weight gain and move on. SIKE.Strength and Nutrition Coach Beth Feraco is the dragon slayer of fitness BS. We answer questions like, Why are people so gullible? And WTF even is “clean” eating?The problem is that the mass public is always looking for the magic answer, the easy way out, the fix-it-all advice... Sorry, Charlie, but it is ALWAYS going to come back to the boring, basic shit.People are quick to reach out with wild assumptions, like you need to get your thyroid checked.News flash: the only symptom of hormonal concerns is not lack of fat loss. Chances are you're not being as consistent as you think, your portions are too big, or the scale is freaking lying to you. The point is (and you're going to roll your eyes, I know it) KEEP IT SIMPLE. Think for yourself, take care of yourself, eat for your health, and keep your body moving.There are so many gems in this one, so tune into the full episode. And if you're struggling with your fitness, check out my Ultimate Guide To Building Muscle and Burning Fat After 40.    What's Inside:Do women after 40 have to just accept weight gain?Why are people willing to believe anything they see in an Insta reel?WTF is clean eating? Does it even matter?How to take care of yourself – the real, simple truth.Mentioned In This Episode:Cut The Crap With Beth And MattBeth Wilkas Feraco (@bethferacofitness) • InstagramBeth Feraco FitnessThe Ultimate Guide To Building Muscle and Burning Fat After 40 (Part 1) - Fit Feels GoodTransform Your Body & Habits In 28 Days.  Guaranteed.Fit Feels Good (@oonaghduncan) on Instagraminfo@fitfeelsgood.com 

Ssssshhhhh welcome to our bunker, today we are watching A QUIET PLACE DAY ONE (2024) and sort of the whole suite of Quiet Places, as well as the whole suite of Thumb- shorts (Thumbtanic, Frankenthumb, etc), and bog bodies. Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: Thumb Wars https://youtu.be/MyDehO1IuG4?si=DwnrBQmQOOsKLwRv talk show hosts and "exposure therapy" https://www.tiktok.com/@teiganish/video/7224092857253022982?lang=en bog bodies https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bog_body A Quiet Place creature design featurette https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKk2x8SYdzo   I know we said we'd be back in two weeks to discuss CUCKOO (2024) but we'll ACTUALLY and FINALLY be talking LONGLEGS (2024)!!! See you soon sweeties, ilysm   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

Helllllloooooo today we're discussing ARCADIAN (2024), shoebill storks, upcoming movies, and our love for Cillian Murphy. Oh also! When we recorded, Arcadian wasn't on Shudder yet, but it looks like it is now! Great time to start a subscription (non-spon, but would spon)!   Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: Shoebill stork (sorry I called it a crane) Arcadian creature design Cillian Murphy Join us back here in two weeks to talk A QUIET PLACE: DAY ONE (2024) or maybe LONGLEGS (2024) it's really gonna come down to how forgetful Kelly is vis-a-vis editing!   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

Hi!!!! Today we're discussing The Watchers (2024), fairy smut, and Rupert Grint.    Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: A Field Guide to Demons, Fairies, Fallen Angels, and Other Subservice Spirits by Carol K. Mack and Dinah Mack   Join us in two weeks to discuss Arcadian (2024) and then in two weeks after that?? LONGLEGS (2024), the film we've all been waiting for for an eternity, and our main man, Osgood Perkins. Betchya thought I was gonna say Nic Cage. We'll discuss him too, obv.  Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

Hiya! Hey quick question, before you keep reading, are your doors locked right now? You should make sure your doors are locked right now.  Ok, now that you're safe - we're talking The Strangers: Chapter 1 (2024)! It's nowhere near as good as The Strangers (2008) and if for some reason you have to choose which one to watch, definitely go with the original.    Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing    Show notes: We stayed shockingly on track but here's a screenshot of the view behind me while we were recording that was giving Samara from The Ring (2002) vibes Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

Hello! We're going to stop saying "we're back" until some personal things shake out, we're currently dodging our own various spectres, but you know your gurls are still out here watching scary movies. Today, we're talking TAROT (2024) which is fun! We thought it was going to be very bad, but it instead it was pretty ok! We also discuss Kelly's home invader and Chelsea's Guillermo Del Toro's tarot deck. Give her a listen!   Follow us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/noshowmonster.bsky.social Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NoShowMonster Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noshowmonster/ Email us at noshowmonster@gmail.com Follow Kelly Attaway Twitter: https://twitter.com/kellyattaway Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spooky_kellyyy/ Follow Chelsea Hollander lol SIKE you can't she's not online because she values her mental health and wellbeing      Show notes: Hello, I'm Shelley Duvall (youtube)  Tarot del Toro (amazon) THE FALL (2006) isn't streaming! Boooo! (JustWatch.com) The Fall by Camus (wikipedia) Gates of Paradise (smithsonian mag) Horrorscope by Nicholas Adams (goodreads) Death gremlins in DEAD LIKE ME (deadlikeme.fandom.com) Elisa Lam elevator video (youtube) Dybbuk box - the wiki now includes the details of the hoax! [monster concepts] Trevor Henderson's ig @slimyswampghost [monster sfx designer] Dan Martin's ig @13fingerfx [tarot card artist] Richad Wells' ig @slipper_jack   Join us back here next week to discuss The Strangers: Chapter 1 (2024)!   Hosted by Kelly Attaway and Chelsea Hollander Produced by Kelly Attaway Art by Ryan Tate Theme by Unicorn Heads  

All podcast links:https://linktr.ee/aguyinhisroomNew a guy in his room #214!This time I talk about stuff with  @Warpedwenger !  (Matt Wenger, Warpedwenger on youtube, RealBebub on X/twitter) Check out his streams because they are genuinely hilarious, and his FREE comic at warpcomic.com!Sike and Lubscribe today!Topics:Matt Wenger intro,association with 'Comicsgate'Biden white house saying 'cheap-fake',Biden sitting down for a debate,my 'brown' color on the stream vs reddish brown,audio issue buzzing noise??re-try of podcast beginning/wenger intro!"super harem" comic success,Matt video issues begin!Wenger's wig streams,people going trans and not being happy,girls getting unrealistic feedback online,stream comes back with just audio!Dark Brandon corporate funded memes,Kiwi Farms and 4 c**n the only place you can talk,Reddit went super pro censorship for the left,Reddit banning people just for being in other 'bad' subreddits,people have to speak like babies on YouTube,r**arded making a comeback?Downs syndrome people being mentally little kids,Burger King down's syndrome guy story with a twist at the end!“I got a big d**k”,Female comedians saying they're horny,Cobes the lolcow,Karl, Wenger's ex collaborator,Comicsgate only liking 1990's style comics,Comicsgate hating eric july nonstop,Wenger's hadron collider,Dimensional jumping on reddit,Quantum immortality,AI just happened super recently,A********e in fear and loathing in las vegas,Being blackpilled,Accepting the lord,“No fap” and not cooming,#nopiss and #nopoop,Nintendo wii lady who died from holding pee,Game streaming,Tough guy military cringe video,Wenger's gonzo video,Wenger VS the cringe joker,NPCs standing around for 36 hours,thewarpcomic.com,Rats having their own storyline in wenger's comics,Wenger ships wayfair 'packages'#mattwenger #wenger #comicsgate #cg #superharem #warpcomic #comedy  #aguyinhisroom #podcast #kingcobrajfs #cringe #cringejoker #tenessee #toughguycringe #cringecompilation #kiwifarms 

All podcast links:https://linktr.ee/aguyinhisroomNew a guy in his room #213!This time I talk about "unhoused" people, mental institutions being gone, the warnings about trumps possible second term, even more female teachers abusing young students, and Biden "freezing"!Sike and Lubscribe today!Topics:Spare any change?unhoused vs homeless,homeless people vs mentally ill,mental institutions being gone,Pennhurst asylum,mental breakdowns,hearing stock audio in a webinar with the watermark still in it,Pennhurst Asylum now a tourist ghost-hunting attraction,people saying Trump winning again will be worse,AOC says Trump will 'lock her up' if elected,Hunter Biden GUILTYYYY,MORE FEMALE TEACHERS WITH YOUNG BOY STUDENTS,#girlgrooming #girlbossmolesting,yaaaaas predator queen,https://nypost.com/2024/06/11/us-news/wisconsin-teachers-resign-over-sexy-pics-texts-with-student-report/Biden "freezes" at Juneteenth celebration,politicians just freeze now!I want a president who freezes randomly!#aoc #biden #freeze #juneteenth #dementia #femaleteachers #students #femaleteacherpredators #trump #secondterm #election #politicians #pennhearst #asylums #mentalinstitutions #homeless #unhoused #mentalillness #hunterbiden #aguyinhisroom #podcast #groomer #pedo #femalepedo 

All podcast links:https://linktr.ee/aguyinhisroomNew a guy in his room #212!This time I talk about YouTube censoring and removing an old episode and giving me a warning over absolutely nothing except for a sarcastic bit I did, and I talk about Pride Month and the recently updated pride flag that includes POC, how confusing and over the top the pride flag is now, and a husband in a polycule expresses his concerns!Sike and Lubscribe today!Topics:YouTube CENSORSHIP,YouTube gave me a warning,Playing the part that YouTube flagged,YouTube policy training option like re-education,it's PRIDE MONTH!Pride flag updated... to add black people,the old pride flag 'centered white gay men',Adding gay POC or just POC on the flag?The old pride flag wasn't excluding certain races,specifying and focusing on race is pretty new,you couldn't add any other colors to represent races,you can't keep changing something you have to finalize it,bands re-recording old albums,re-recording old podcast episodes,so progressive you become offensive,reddit lgbtq subreddits don't like new flag,no swinging or polycule symbols on flag?Husband in polycule in denial about feeling left out.#aguyinhisroom #podcast #polycule #pride #pridemonth #prideflag #progressprideflag #pocprideflag #swinging #swingers #youtubecensorship #youtubewarning #communityguidelines #youtube #comedy #satire #parody

Iggy smoked during his appearance on RoundAbout Sports yesterday. ASMR Patreon. Workshopping a point-runner for the 14th. Bif(f) and Show. Audio of Iggy on the RoundAbout Sports podcast with a listener-submitted question from 'Dustin.' Iggy vs. Mosquitos. Iggy's cameo comes into question again. Iggy is really set on a guest host for the 14th. 7-iron talk. Chuck in Soulard is first up on the phone lines talking Bill Walton and The Association. The call isn't playing well. Todd is on next. Sike, it's Timmy The Tickler. Lotta momentum for Chariman Steve to host on the 14th. This is Us vs. The Last of Us. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Iggy smoked during his appearance on RoundAbout Sports yesterday. ASMR Patreon. Workshopping a point-runner for the 14th. Bif(f) and Show. Audio of Iggy on the RoundAbout Sports podcast with a listener-submitted question from 'Dustin.' Iggy vs. Mosquitos. Iggy's cameo comes into question again. Iggy is really set on a guest host for the 14th. 7-iron talk. Chuck in Soulard is first up on the phone lines talking Bill Walton and The Association. The call isn't playing well. Todd is on next. Sike, it's Timmy The Tickler. Lotta momentum for Chariman Steve to host on the 14th. This is Us vs. The Last of Us. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Garage Night with Craig (Sike) and Corey Bentley: Door Dash, Tipping, Travis Raps, Proficient Rapper, Flat Earth, Shout Outs  

Ever wondered what it's like to merge the rawness of metal with the steady vibes of Brevard? Tanner and Ryan, the metal core rockers, invite us into their world, where the guttural growls meet the ocean's roar. They take us on a journey through their heavy influences, sharing tales of how bands like Bring Me The Horizon and Underoath helped carve their unique sound. But it's not just about the music; these Melbourne rockers also offer up a slice of their lives, from their hydration quirks to the technicalities of perfecting a vocal growl that could shake the sand off any beachsider.Strap in for a rollercoaster of emotions as Tanner and Ryan open up about the complexities of maintaining a band that feels more like a family. They reflect on their beginnings, the highs and lows of band dynamics, and how personality compatibility is just as crucial as musical synergy. As we navigate the waves of their creative process, we get a glimpse into their recent collaborative approach to songwriting, diving into themes of relationships gone sour and personal turmoil amidst the backdrop of a global pandemic.But it's not all heavy riffs and heartache; we also explore the balancing act of modern musicianship. From teaching music to composing for video games, and even making Uber Eats deliveries, one band member shares his hustle to keep the dream alive. Even when venturing into side projects like 'Car Crash Victims' and 'Mechanical Canine,' the duo emphasizes the anchor that is their main project, SIKE!. They reveal the secret to their enduring partnership and tease us with a wild concert tale that proves life in a band is anything but predictable. Join us for this no-holds-barred session that's as much about the music as it is about the musicians behind it.Support the Show.Follow us on Instagram @spacecoastpodcastSponsor this show Want to watch our shows? https://youtube.com/@spacecoastpodcast

As we continue getting into some new 2024 horror releases, we take a drastic swing from the indie horror of Stop Motion in our previous episode, to the big studio fuckery of IMAGINARY. It's Blumhouse, it's PG-13, and it's directed by the same individual who directed modern classics (SIKE) like Blumhouse's Truth or Dare and Blumhouse's Fantasty Island. GODDAMN. Needless to say, we had fun talking about this one. "Every culture has a name for it, entities that tether to the young. The Spanish call it "El Cuco". The Trinidadians, the "Jumbie". We call them imaginary friends." It's the Who Goes There Podcast Episode 410! Join our Patreon if you enjoy the show! As a patreon member you get the episodes early, bonus content, access to our Discord, and exclusive merchandise. Most importantly, you get to help us continue doing the show. Thanks for listening and a huge thanks as always to @calgee for his amazing original art. Go give him a follow on Instagram. The Who Goes There Podcast is available to subscribe to on iTunes and Spotify. You can also find us on Instagram. 

Garage Night with Craig (Sike) and Corey Bentley: Ice Cream Truck Dreams, Skarrey Skelleys, Uncle Questions, Dropping That Weight, Veronica's Hot Topics, Colts Draft, Shout Outs  

Get ready to hear how I plan on timing the market and how you can too... SIKE! To put it simply, trying to predict the perfect time to buy is impractical and unreliable. In this solo episode, I'm talking about how investment decisions—be it in real estate, stock market, or career moves—are inherently gambles and that market timing is a myth. However, I do share the seasonal trends I've noticed when it comes to buying properties and a few strategic recommendations. Tune in to be encouraged to take action and learning from experience rather than attempting to outsmart or predict market trends! Book a call to see if you would be a good fit for Wanderlust Wealth Academy: https://calendly.com/theoliviatati/wanderlustwealthacademy Learn more about WWA here: https://www.oliviatati.com/wwa Hang out with me on IG: @theoliviatati / @wanderlustwealth.show Watch this episode on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@Theoliviatati/

We hope you enjoy this podcast brought to you by Nick Conner and Danny Motta! We hope to cover all your favorite anime as well as any current noteworthy news! New episodes will be releasing each week, hope to see you at the next one!Danny Motta's Youtube Channel:https://www.youtube.com/@DannyMottaNick aka Nchammer23's Youtube Channel:https://www.youtube.com/@NCHammer23Otakus Anonymous Highlights Page:https://www.youtube.com/@otakusanonymoushighlights1698Become a Patreon/YT Member and get access to the Discord and livestreams!https://patreon.com/user?u=103227750https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCs4Dg52oybuJy2-eLkWe1YA/joinBuy OtakusAnonymous, NCHammer23, or Danny Motta merch: https://otakusanonymous.net/Edited with love by: Stanktheanimedude0:00 - BOOBS8:02 - Danny The Yapper10:12 - Today's Schedule12:18 - Plans For Our Panels!17:39 - Need That Tight 520:02 - Hakura Sakura Is The Best Name In Anime33:31 - Best Pink Haired Anime Characters!37:09 - Danny HATES Bocchi54:46 - Invincible Season 2 Was Meh1:11:38 - Ranking All The Songs Of Hazbin Hotel!1:22:18 - The Boys Take A Detour1:23:36 - Back To The Tierlist!1:26:58 - Chip Skylark Was A Generational Classic1:32:49 - Back To The Tierlist!1:33:06 -  Sike!1:34:16 - Alright This Is Actually The End1:36:13 - This Week's Best Boi!1:41:24 - Delicious In Dugeon = Food Wars??1:42:14 - This Week's Love Letters!Support the show

My thoughts on violent video games and whether or not they create school shooters. Plus, Gavin Newsom says SIKE to black America on reparations. But, did black people actually think that was going to happen? And, a Florida couple's wedding is in turmoil as a New York hotel suddenly cancels THIRTY rooms they booked for their guests to make room for immigrants. Also, a bizarre story of a Mormon mom who is accused of poisoning her husband with a fentanyl-laced Moscow Mule. Ep.152 - - - Click here to join The Daily Wire+: https://bit.ly/3DzN2Uj Grab some “Yes We CANdace” merch here: https://bit.ly/3Amm13Y Pre-order your Jeremy's Chocolate here: https://bit.ly/3EQeVag - - -  Today's Sponsors: PureTalk - Switch to PureTalk and get a FREE 5G Samsung Galaxy phone!https://www.puretalkusa.com/landing/Owens ExpressVPN - Get 3 Months FREE of ExpressVPN: https://www.expressvpn.com/candace - - -  Socials: Follow on Twitter: https://bit.ly/3RNly1c Follow on Instagram: https://bit.ly/3U5DF4a Follow on Facebook: https://bit.ly/3Ug6Thd Subscribe on YouTube: https://bit.ly/3d9dZ6k