Podcast appearances and mentions of sonny moore

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 19, 2024 4:03

Whips and chains, oh yes Leather collars, harnesses Plush encounters, fur lined walls And neon countertops Painted in gold, Tame, and made silent Kept underground, as always Your secret. What happens in cerulean stays in cerulean I only smile when I see the color yellow and then dream of him, Seeking nothing but solace At the concourse, we converse momentarily And then go our separate ways Forever and always Forever and always Your secrets I smell like dirt And arrived in the real world Covered in blood And scraped over the, Over the knees, Yes I did Come recover then, What you've lost from the world Born in chaos, not quite But almost, as we're once swarmed the waters Lee it better quiet, now Keep it better quiet now, Keep it better quiet now, your secrets There lies no tru loyalty to bands tied On middle fingers Besides to one's own self And they who they shall Desire and claim as another Extention of God, In her Or their arms There is no claim to faith or mercy Than what comes between us, Bombshells As argued in chaos —mother, you're not listening To the call of the wild Then now, How am i bound to that besides being In sanctity Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose –m–39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—beffldled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on somehh th int, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delisuins of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeker to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Of into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone reliever her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the Gid of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never due) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever your spending If money the God,l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new hits boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Holdberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, all lives. Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5 bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know l It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on have a seat Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Cente Lmfao I need this word hold on eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to run far, And bring back The life that I want I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point …If you haven't seen him at his worst… WHERE'S MY SHIT?! …yo…you are so evil… [*breaks everything*] …Then you don't deserve him at his best. Wake up in a wet bed, sweat pouring engine strikes Disaster, roaring Ranting, raving,, Lunatics, icons Ione, eye color No warning: I want you Adonis New Adonis I got something for you; It's got four doors, I know you can't afford it, Come on, Only one offer Come on, You know I want you What I want a car in New York for? Even the scorecard, Cork off the bottle, huh? Go figure. I got sharp numbers, No harm no foul ball; Still stick in the Capstone, There's a sandstorm On the first montage. Pitch up, With the fever pitch With the fever pitch downstroke UP Pitch down With the force With the force Or What have you Play ball, No– playfair Payboy model Wayfair value Strict non-orders Foreigner syndrome Alcohol bottle Palindrome, Astronomy No, Farquad Noah's Ark and all Going door to door, the doctor Doing more and more The Talk show host Losing more the Mortimer, Call it Losing more, The Watchamacalit, Chocolate bar, So far, Hard to forget No, Hard Ball, Soft pitch— Watch this: THE COSMIC AVENGER (V.O) I cannot resist a chocolate cake! Huh. Seriously, I'm telling you. *sniffs* hm. {Enter The Multiverse} Yo, i'm telling you: she's spot on. Like, scary accurate. Precise. Always right. Even on Tuesdays. Why would it matter if it's Tuesday or not? Most Psychics are wrong on Tuesdays. Really. You didn't know about this? Never heard that. Most of them. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god tv love new york amazon fear texas health trust google man los angeles rock las vegas anxiety dj home er holy guns losing forever south funny forbes fortune started champion disasters run seeking wake dark desire beyonce alcohol motherhood networking queens worse burning shit audience chocolate trash gotta soft tower new yorker jamaica fuck pitch riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic butterflies supply bitch wash foreign shut younger bought selfish ark covered copyright realize fix repeat nah buried shut up permanent tragic hyper brotherhood hatred aha cc i love mister curses shirts atari corrections leather bury disconnect automatic tame advisory cork complications ur rubber foreigner irony hm rooftop strict idk painted wayfair skrillex mmm babysitting fix it no love samo deadmau5 who are you fairbanks mortimer swallowed precise sunni whips capstone skr lmfao antenna plush thoth lunatics ohh daisies tryna new york city department celibate palindromes god can rots picket white power ione sunn idlewild cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan yaw gid stay dead cellophane palpitations rockefeller plaza ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags

All for U.

Sappenin’ Podcast with Sean Smith

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 19, 2024 4:03

Whips and chains, oh yes Leather collars, harnesses Plush encounters, fur lined walls And neon countertops Painted in gold, Tame, and made silent Kept underground, as always Your secret. What happens in cerulean stays in cerulean I only smile when I see the color yellow and then dream of him, Seeking nothing but solace At the concourse, we converse momentarily And then go our separate ways Forever and always Forever and always Your secrets I smell like dirt And arrived in the real world Covered in blood And scraped over the, Over the knees, Yes I did Come recover then, What you've lost from the world Born in chaos, not quite But almost, as we're once swarmed the waters Lee it better quiet, now Keep it better quiet now, Keep it better quiet now, your secrets There lies no tru loyalty to bands tied On middle fingers Besides to one's own self And they who they shall Desire and claim as another Extention of God, In her Or their arms There is no claim to faith or mercy Than what comes between us, Bombshells As argued in chaos —mother, you're not listening To the call of the wild Then now, How am i bound to that besides being In sanctity Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose –m–39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—beffldled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on somehh th int, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delisuins of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeker to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Of into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone reliever her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the Gid of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never due) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever your spending If money the God,l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new hits boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Holdberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, all lives. Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5 bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know l It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on have a seat Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Cente Lmfao I need this word hold on eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to run far, And bring back The life that I want I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point …If you haven't seen him at his worst… WHERE'S MY SHIT?! …yo…you are so evil… [*breaks everything*] …Then you don't deserve him at his best. Wake up in a wet bed, sweat pouring engine strikes Disaster, roaring Ranting, raving,, Lunatics, icons Ione, eye color No warning: I want you Adonis New Adonis I got something for you; It's got four doors, I know you can't afford it, Come on, Only one offer Come on, You know I want you What I want a car in New York for? Even the scorecard, Cork off the bottle, huh? Go figure. I got sharp numbers, No harm no foul ball; Still stick in the Capstone, There's a sandstorm On the first montage. Pitch up, With the fever pitch With the fever pitch downstroke UP Pitch down With the force With the force Or What have you Play ball, No– playfair Payboy model Wayfair value Strict non-orders Foreigner syndrome Alcohol bottle Palindrome, Astronomy No, Farquad Noah's Ark and all Going door to door, the doctor Doing more and more The Talk show host Losing more the Mortimer, Call it Losing more, The Watchamacalit, Chocolate bar, So far, Hard to forget No, Hard Ball, Soft pitch— Watch this: THE COSMIC AVENGER (V.O) I cannot resist a chocolate cake! Huh. Seriously, I'm telling you. *sniffs* hm. {Enter The Multiverse} Yo, i'm telling you: she's spot on. Like, scary accurate. Precise. Always right. Even on Tuesdays. Why would it matter if it's Tuesday or not? Most Psychics are wrong on Tuesdays. Really. You didn't know about this? Never heard that. Most of them. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god tv love new york amazon fear texas health trust google man los angeles rock las vegas anxiety dj home er holy guns losing forever south funny forbes fortune started champion disasters run seeking wake dark desire beyonce alcohol motherhood networking queens worse burning shit audience chocolate trash gotta soft tower new yorker jamaica fuck pitch riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic butterflies supply bitch wash foreign shut younger bought selfish ark covered copyright realize fix repeat nah buried shut up permanent tragic hyper brotherhood hatred aha cc i love mister curses shirts atari corrections leather bury disconnect automatic tame advisory cork complications ur rubber foreigner irony hm rooftop strict idk painted wayfair skrillex mmm babysitting fix it no love samo deadmau5 who are you fairbanks mortimer swallowed precise sunni whips capstone skr lmfao antenna plush thoth lunatics ohh daisies tryna new york city department celibate palindromes god can rots picket white power ione sunn idlewild cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan yaw gid stay dead cellophane palpitations rockefeller plaza ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags

EP. 310 - Matt Good #2 (From First To Last / Producer)

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 1, 2024 80:13

Dear Diary. From First To Last founder, all-star record producer and ultimate rare Pokemon card collector, Matt Good, is our guest on Episode 310 of Sappenin' Podcast. The scremo vs post-hardcore king returns to unveil unanswered questions on the bands surprise return, new music vs lineup figures and fighting for their legacy. In this conversation, Matt opens up on FFTL future live status, response to new tracks 'Genius' and 'REV', the real reason why Sonny Moore aka Skrillex isn't involved in this incarnation, experiencing a fresh generation of listeners, not being asked to play When We Were Young Festival, their longstanding impact on 2000s emo scenes, Warped Tour frathouse parties, moshing inside an aquarium, how Wes Borland (Limp Bizkit) and Mikey Way (My Chemical Romance) spent time on bass, producing artists like Asking Alexandria, Sleeping With Sirens and the controversial TX2, expensive cards, trolling The Blackout online and more! Turn it up and join Sean and Morgan to find out Sappenin' this week!Follow us on Social Media:Twitter: @sappeninpodInstagram: @sappeninpodSpecial thank you to our Sappenin' Podcast Patreons:Join the Sappenin' Podcast Community: Patreon.com/Sappenin.Kylie Wheeler, Janelle Caston, Paul Hirschfield, Tony Michael, Scarlet Charlton, Dilly Grimwood, Mitch Perry, Nathan Crawshaw, Molly Molloy, James Bowerbank, Amee Louise, Kat Bessant, Kieran Lewis, Alexandra Pemblington, Jonathan Gutierrez, Jenni Robinson, Stuart McNaught, Jenni Munster, Louis Cook, Carl Pendlebury, James Mcnaught, Martina McManus, Jason Heredia, John&Emma, Danny Eaton, RahRah James, Sian Foynes, Evan, Ollie Amesbury, Dan Peregreen, Emily Perry, Kalila Keane, Adam Parslow, Josh Crisp, Vicki Henshaw, Laura Russell, Fraser Cummings, Sophie Ansell, Kyle Smith, Connor Lewins, Billy Hunter, Harry Radford, George Evans, Em Evans Roberts, Thomas O'Neill, Sinead O'Halloran, Kael Braham, Jade Austin, Charlie Wood, Aurora Winchester, Jordan Harris, James Page, Georgie Hopkinson, Helen Anyetta, John Wilson, Lisa Sullivan, Ayla Emo, Kelly Young, Jennifer Dean, Tj Ambler-Shattock, Chaz Howkins, Michael Snowden, Justine Baddeley, David Winchurch, Jim Farrell, Scott Evans, Andrew Simpson, Shaun Croucher, Lewis Sluman, Ellie Gowers, Luke Wardle, Grazyna McGroarty, Nathan Matheson, Matt Roberts, Joshua Lewis, Erin Howard,, Chris Harris, Lucy Neill, Amy Thomas, Jessie Hellier, Stevie Burke, Robert Pike, Anthony Matthews, Samantha Neville, Sarah Maher, Owen Davies, Bethan Downing, Jessica Tiernan, Danielle Oldershaw, Samantha Bowen, Ruby Price, Jule Ferl, Alice Wood, Billy Parmiter, Emma Musgrave, Rhian Friggens, Hannah Kenyon, Patrick Floyd, Hayley Taylor, Loz Sanchez, Cerys Andrews, Dan Johnson, Eva B, Emma Barber, Helen Macbeth, Melissa Mercury, Joshua Ryan, Cate Stevenson, Emily Moorhouse, Jacob Turner, Madeleine Inez, Robert Byrne, Christopher Goldring, Chris Lincoln, Beth Gayler, Lesley Dargie-Walker, Sabina Grosch, Tom Hylands, Andrew Keech, Kerry Beckett, Leanne Gerrard, Ieuan Wheeler, Hannah Rachael, Gemma Graham, Andy Wastell, Jay Smith, Nuala Clark, Liam Connolly, Lavender Martin, Lloyd Pinder, Ghostly Grimoire, Amy Hogg.Diolch and Thank You x Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

social media rev genius pokemon acast blackout skrillex warped tour dear diary john wilson podcast community chris harris sinead o halloran kyle smith dan johnson jay smith asking alexandria matt roberts scott evans jordan harris sleeping with sirens andrew simpson jacob turner diolch kelly young from first to last joshua lewis matt good george evans emily perry amy thomas danny eaton james page owen davies eva b robert byrne charlie wood billy hunter lisa sullivan sonny moore emma barber liam connolly sarah maher erin howard hannah rachael kylie wheeler paul hirschfield

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

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 16, 2024 74:23

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

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

{Caddyshack}

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 13, 2024 65:01

“Caddyshack” (A Mumtidimentional Mixtape) {Enter The Multiverse} From Wikipedia: Caddyshack is a 1980 American sportscomedy film directed by Harold Ramis, written by Brian Doyle-Murray, Ramis and Douglas Kenney, and starring Chevy Chase, Rodney Dangerfield, Ted Knight, Michael O'Keefe and Bill Murray with supporting roles by Sarah Holcomb, Cindy Morgan, and Doyle-Murray. It tells the story of a caddie, vying for a caddie scholarship, who becomes involved in a feud on the links between one of the country club's founders and a nouveau riche guest. A subplot involves a greenskeeper who uses extreme methods against an elusive gopher. Caddyshack was Ramis's directorial debut and boosted the career of Dangerfield, who was previously known mostly for his stand-up comedy. Grossing nearly $40 million at the domestic box office (the 17th-highest of the year),[3] it was the first of a series of similar comedies. The film has a cult following and was described by ESPN as "perhaps the funniest sports movie ever made" SAUCE (IN CASE YOU MISSED IT) —- AHAHA. ITS ME AGAIN. OH SHIT! Oh shit, i guess it's Jimmy Fallon's Galaxy. Oh nooo. Oh, yes. Look at this penny. I see you. Now look into my eyes. I see you, Jesus. Ahahaha! Okay, now what? This shit is twisted I missed the shift of the dimensions— Till Jimmy walked in with his pennies For some cigarettes and swishers, Just to get the picture It's 5 AM again, And it's still Infinite, I'm disinterestedd as ever in living in LA, Or just living, period— But it is what it is, I work for my rent, I've repented for this, Used to sleep in a tent, But when I was an Infant, I instantly— Wait, a customer walked in. I better help him. Heaven help him. Another level, Call dr. Nevel, Or an Ambulance, I just can't get it Just can't get it, Wait, let's insert some of the script here, I guess. Took you long enough, didn't it? That took forever. How are you alive? Maybe I'm not. Finally, we agree on something. Oh, this guy Lol. Good to see you again. Likewise, now— Here it goes… As you promised. Working on it. As I promised. Take my heart for granted, Take my soul, If this is loveless Till the end, I just can't manage, having Thoughts of death and tragic ends I haven't Felt the same since Waking up without the day to come ahead; The day has passed again A test, No fail, or pass It's just progressive, In a trance, It's just the stress, It's just to pass the time, I guess, if this is purpose Then, we'll see if this is worth it Now, or never, then Now or never, Never had a friend, All envious at best, This is the end all, In the end, it's just Me and God, And God would want A better body, To have fun I wished it all at once, And then I watched it crumble Oh, I watched it Stumble in, again, my friend I'm different when it's wet, I might not never see the Sun again I might not ever love again Oh well “Oh well” , I said Oh, well, I guess Oh well Okay. One hour left. Okay. Who gets the gold? Hum. Honestly I didn't want to hear a thing ; I had quit music—I just wasn't cut out for the industry—I was, but not by societal standards by far; my lowly place in the smoke shop would have to do for now, and though I knew it wouldn't sustain, there wasn't much else I could do but keep showing up, for as long as it lasted—dresses in at least 2 layers and 5 pairs of socks tucked into boots two-sizes-too-big I had been forced to purchase specifically due to the frigid and painful, freezing temperatures at the locations I worked, which kept its doors open 24/7. Play Iambic. What, right now? Yeah, play Iambic. Uh… Iambic played st exactly 1 hour and 19 minutes—it's script, the transcribed rendition crafted especially for the Broadway stage, an 88-page-masterpiece collecting dust in the confines of my Google Documents, along with anything else I had written and had yet the advantage of placing anywhere besides my podcast channels, which I constantly thought about cancelling, despite its innumerous downloads—nothing really seemed to matter anymore, as I was trapped in my body, in a loveless world, in a dead-end job and though my bed was clean and comfy, sharing the room wirh 3 others became exhausting. INT. SMOKESHOP. 5:58 AM DREW BARRYMORE … SUPACREE … I'm done. I quit. QUIT?! YOU CAN'T QUIT. Nope. That's it. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. I hadn't quit the music industry—the music industry had quit me. I wasn't pretty enough, skinny enough, light skinned enough, or willing to do what any of the other girls were to get ahead. WTF is THIS. Since you like to troll so much, I just thought I'd turn you into one This is not Kosher, 199x Jimmy Fallon; Let me out of this plastic —not exactly “fireproof” — death box, before I let myself out, and I trap you in it. But oh, You already did. FIGHT. UGH OH. Ok, rotate. Who is this. Oh shit, hey dude. FUCK, what year is it? MEANWHILE, Under the bridge. …anybody seen this, uh… *Troll* Yee! *Troll* Alright. That's it. Everything checks out. The story was air tight. TIGHT, TIGHT I want you to wear this tonight “The Lady In The Red Dress” You really went all out for this I really didn't. lol Oh I see, You thought this was the matrix. MIT I WISH GOD Wish what. MIT … Mm. Did u see that. See what. ALRIGHT FUCK THIS, YA'LL IT GOT SERIOUS, WHERE'S MY CYCLOPS He called me his cyclops— —-and then he said LIKE GET OUT WHAT GET OUT OF MY HOUSE WHY CAUSE YOURE JUST A PIÑATA, MAN! And I ain't got time for that! I just got a DeLorean And a new HAT I gotta go get Oof. WRECKED. Yo, Wicked. KENDRICK (TODDLER) WIZARD. Oh my. I'm J00F'd up. | | | trance | | | Look; I gotta get out of this MOTHER OF PEARL do not beach this whale carcas on my warehouse project A what A beached whale I know You brought a beached whale to my fucking rave show Oh I get it It's Avant- Guarde No, that's just how I got here …. Trust me, it's okay that This never happened You did not see me It's because I wasn't there Is this U Ū No I wasn't there. Ü I was. Fuck. What happened. It's ok. All I remember is “The Quatardashians” Hmm Also The indigenous But that's it But mostly that was all just Jesus showing off his flexes Are u fasting? Yes, “Ū” is. So, do you need this?! TRUMPP Get rid of this recording imiidiately GOT IT. kill that bitch. SKRILLEX Yessir. —-but before all that happens. …did you want fries with that?! Why are we boycotting McDonald's —for poisoning —the allies —our enemies. Wait, you're eating this? Yes. Like, for fun, or like? No. This is what I'm feeding my children Why Cause they hungry. Uh, ok— —and there's six of them. Aight, ya'll can each have one nugget with your— I wanted a cheese burger! You git hamburgers. Ham. Cheese costs CENTS; And you know your momma If I ain't about a dollar - A dollop of Daisy You really are Ashamed of his Alright, you evil bastards. I see you want to Cause suffering Correct For which you will eternally recurve damnnation and all of the pain you've caused Karmas a bitch It's lonely at the top Not when you're GOD Get off my rock Did you miss an appointment? Nah, can't do it Why what happened Too high up. Whatchu mean So what, it's just like Done. Well, this is it, huh guys. Oh, yeah, it's that, alright This is the longest ride we ever took.d This is the ONLY ride we ever took. I WANNA GET OFF THIS RIDE. I AM REALLY HIGH UP. JUST LET GO. NO. NO. NO. Put me down, kite!!! KITE wtf do you want me to do. I'm a KITE. I'm YOU FUCKIN KIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—- Well, I'll be honest, man, this sets you back, some How far back GET GONE, But? We're dinosaurs. Why would something with razor sharp teeth be so— —peaceful, and friendly?? T-REX …cuddles. I just can't fake the feeling( I can't pretend to cry It just comes, when it does But when the well runs dry That's when the the world will end That's when the world will end After this movie, I guarantee we will no longer need the Wilhelm scream AGGGGGHHHHHHH!!! YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHHH UUUUUUUUUUUUU This movie broke the world record for the amount of times the word “No” was screamed NO NOH. NO. ‘No! NOOOOOOOOOOO! NONONO. NOOOOOOOAAAAAHH …No! Here they all come for her, Defended upon New York In order of important, or appearance? One doesn't wonder, At al, of what's to come Uncommon, we are The call has come TRACY My tummy hurts. That's probably because you've been drinking straight tequila for the last hour and a half. No I haven't! This is water! Tequila is YELLOW, Liz Lemon! No, Tracy—that's silver tequila, And regular tequila is, You know what? Nevermind. Alright, who's got the night shift? [nobody raises their hand, at all] Seriously guys?! Come on! COME ON! Look up WHAM! For some reason, idk. Can we just— not do this? No. Out of my mind a bit Speaking in tongues, In total silence Guess it's the times, I guess that's just who I am And who I am is I said I was Sam I'm the same, I said, “Say Uncle” I guess it's a game, we're playing I don't want to be played with At all I just want to feel loved again By someone else Superb, like him I just want to be felt, I guess By someone else That's “Different” I just want to be kissed on the lips A splendid blend of Twisted trysts Let's not pretend It hasn't ended yet Until you've finished it Class dismissed again Let me off of it I just want it to stop Keep rolling Keep rolling your eyes in the back of your head Like you did just morning Just go for a walk Just stop for a moment Run a bath And just keep running Cause here something comes, Of course, It's all your callings Neatly rolling into one, They said But I Just want to be loved again And who doesn't That's the fucked up part I just want to be loved again But nobody ever Just comes up I just want to be loved again It's a walk in the park Don't follow the dog Even if he barks at you It's time to start again I wonder what comes after this part You are the gleaning in the shadows, The reckoning in my eye, The siren in my silence; The green in all the lights, I am a shamed to have just been One of your many One of your many Images, You still have me twisted, I miss you, It's just you, at the end, Again I left you where you left me Solid on solid Sounds are invalid now How are you so Swore by your awesome No more songs, I said No more songs, he's dead to me No more songs! She's inlisted He's uninterested, Isn't this interesting The problem is: I'm still in love with Everyone i've ever been in love with (And I love him) But he doesn't remember my Name And he's famous And she's crazy And he hates her But he made me hate him The day I became you The day I became So famous, I finally made it I'm dead It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night” C {CONFUSION SPELL, SUCCESSFUL} [Sequence Initiated.] {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {

god tv love jesus christ music american new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing simple er mit holy guns south satan funny night class forbes fortune taylor swift academy espn grammy started champion temple cold broadway sun run mcdonald dark beyonce quit fight motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash bar cheese gotta wicked lol heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica galaxy fuck riding congratulations wtf remove reverse blow classic writers solid wondering butterflies supply infinite images bitch yellow scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright keller realize fix john lennon repeat tight nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper tequila brotherhood alec baldwin bill murray infants hatred remind urgent hanukkah ham waking lexington aha cc i love ashamed mm mister whoopi goldberg curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections uncommon bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory speaking in tongues trader joe walked marked ambulance complications ur nevermind t rex keep up rubber irony cents hm wham rooftop bob saget mischief stumble kg shabbat idk kite reminding wilhelm kosher chevy chase rue skrillex polite wrecked mmm babysitting closest damages social studies hum fix it no love superb hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you shy goddamn hard days fairbanks rodney dangerfield caddyshack printed oof ata swallowed harold ramis sunni cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh defended jeez thoth long day ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww new york city department celibate fuckers oh shit dangerfield suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman aight sunn ramis whatchu god get god for noh idlewild uuml swore cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan karmas satan jesus yaw hallmark cards grossing stay dead cellophane nevel ted knight cindy morgan palpitations god so say uncle rockefeller plaza goddamnit liz lemon google documents neatly brian doyle murray scatterbrained get gone ahaha mother of pearl get in the van iambic just let go ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

{Caddyshack} - Happy Accidents

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 13, 2024 65:01

“Caddyshack” (A Mumtidimentional Mixtape) {Enter The Multiverse} From Wikipedia: Caddyshack is a 1980 American sportscomedy film directed by Harold Ramis, written by Brian Doyle-Murray, Ramis and Douglas Kenney, and starring Chevy Chase, Rodney Dangerfield, Ted Knight, Michael O'Keefe and Bill Murray with supporting roles by Sarah Holcomb, Cindy Morgan, and Doyle-Murray. It tells the story of a caddie, vying for a caddie scholarship, who becomes involved in a feud on the links between one of the country club's founders and a nouveau riche guest. A subplot involves a greenskeeper who uses extreme methods against an elusive gopher. Caddyshack was Ramis's directorial debut and boosted the career of Dangerfield, who was previously known mostly for his stand-up comedy. Grossing nearly $40 million at the domestic box office (the 17th-highest of the year),[3] it was the first of a series of similar comedies. The film has a cult following and was described by ESPN as "perhaps the funniest sports movie ever made" SAUCE (IN CASE YOU MISSED IT) —- AHAHA. ITS ME AGAIN. OH SHIT! Oh shit, i guess it's Jimmy Fallon's Galaxy. Oh nooo. Oh, yes. Look at this penny. I see you. Now look into my eyes. I see you, Jesus. Ahahaha! Okay, now what? This shit is twisted I missed the shift of the dimensions— Till Jimmy walked in with his pennies For some cigarettes and swishers, Just to get the picture It's 5 AM again, And it's still Infinite, I'm disinterestedd as ever in living in LA, Or just living, period— But it is what it is, I work for my rent, I've repented for this, Used to sleep in a tent, But when I was an Infant, I instantly— Wait, a customer walked in. I better help him. Heaven help him. Another level, Call dr. Nevel, Or an Ambulance, I just can't get it Just can't get it, Wait, let's insert some of the script here, I guess. Took you long enough, didn't it? That took forever. How are you alive? Maybe I'm not. Finally, we agree on something. Oh, this guy Lol. Good to see you again. Likewise, now— Here it goes… As you promised. Working on it. As I promised. Take my heart for granted, Take my soul, If this is loveless Till the end, I just can't manage, having Thoughts of death and tragic ends I haven't Felt the same since Waking up without the day to come ahead; The day has passed again A test, No fail, or pass It's just progressive, In a trance, It's just the stress, It's just to pass the time, I guess, if this is purpose Then, we'll see if this is worth it Now, or never, then Now or never, Never had a friend, All envious at best, This is the end all, In the end, it's just Me and God, And God would want A better body, To have fun I wished it all at once, And then I watched it crumble Oh, I watched it Stumble in, again, my friend I'm different when it's wet, I might not never see the Sun again I might not ever love again Oh well “Oh well” , I said Oh, well, I guess Oh well Okay. One hour left. Okay. Who gets the gold? Hum. Honestly I didn't want to hear a thing ; I had quit music—I just wasn't cut out for the industry—I was, but not by societal standards by far; my lowly place in the smoke shop would have to do for now, and though I knew it wouldn't sustain, there wasn't much else I could do but keep showing up, for as long as it lasted—dresses in at least 2 layers and 5 pairs of socks tucked into boots two-sizes-too-big I had been forced to purchase specifically due to the frigid and painful, freezing temperatures at the locations I worked, which kept its doors open 24/7. Play Iambic. What, right now? Yeah, play Iambic. Uh… Iambic played st exactly 1 hour and 19 minutes—it's script, the transcribed rendition crafted especially for the Broadway stage, an 88-page-masterpiece collecting dust in the confines of my Google Documents, along with anything else I had written and had yet the advantage of placing anywhere besides my podcast channels, which I constantly thought about cancelling, despite its innumerous downloads—nothing really seemed to matter anymore, as I was trapped in my body, in a loveless world, in a dead-end job and though my bed was clean and comfy, sharing the room wirh 3 others became exhausting. INT. SMOKESHOP. 5:58 AM DREW BARRYMORE … SUPACREE … I'm done. I quit. QUIT?! YOU CAN'T QUIT. Nope. That's it. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. I hadn't quit the music industry—the music industry had quit me. I wasn't pretty enough, skinny enough, light skinned enough, or willing to do what any of the other girls were to get ahead. WTF is THIS. Since you like to troll so much, I just thought I'd turn you into one This is not Kosher, 199x Jimmy Fallon; Let me out of this plastic —not exactly “fireproof” — death box, before I let myself out, and I trap you in it. But oh, You already did. FIGHT. UGH OH. Ok, rotate. Who is this. Oh shit, hey dude. FUCK, what year is it? MEANWHILE, Under the bridge. …anybody seen this, uh… *Troll* Yee! *Troll* Alright. That's it. Everything checks out. The story was air tight. TIGHT, TIGHT I want you to wear this tonight “The Lady In The Red Dress” You really went all out for this I really didn't. lol Oh I see, You thought this was the matrix. MIT I WISH GOD Wish what. MIT … Mm. Did u see that. See what. ALRIGHT FUCK THIS, YA'LL IT GOT SERIOUS, WHERE'S MY CYCLOPS He called me his cyclops— —-and then he said LIKE GET OUT WHAT GET OUT OF MY HOUSE WHY CAUSE YOURE JUST A PIÑATA, MAN! And I ain't got time for that! I just got a DeLorean And a new HAT I gotta go get Oof. WRECKED. Yo, Wicked. KENDRICK (TODDLER) WIZARD. Oh my. I'm J00F'd up. | | | trance | | | Look; I gotta get out of this MOTHER OF PEARL do not beach this whale carcas on my warehouse project A what A beached whale I know You brought a beached whale to my fucking rave show Oh I get it It's Avant- Guarde No, that's just how I got here …. Trust me, it's okay that This never happened You did not see me It's because I wasn't there Is this U Ū No I wasn't there. Ü I was. Fuck. What happened. It's ok. All I remember is “The Quatardashians” Hmm Also The indigenous But that's it But mostly that was all just Jesus showing off his flexes Are u fasting? Yes, “Ū” is. So, do you need this?! TRUMPP Get rid of this recording imiidiately GOT IT. kill that bitch. SKRILLEX Yessir. —-but before all that happens. …did you want fries with that?! Why are we boycotting McDonald's —for poisoning —the allies —our enemies. Wait, you're eating this? Yes. Like, for fun, or like? No. This is what I'm feeding my children Why Cause they hungry. Uh, ok— —and there's six of them. Aight, ya'll can each have one nugget with your— I wanted a cheese burger! You git hamburgers. Ham. Cheese costs CENTS; And you know your momma If I ain't about a dollar - A dollop of Daisy You really are Ashamed of his Alright, you evil bastards. I see you want to Cause suffering Correct For which you will eternally recurve damnnation and all of the pain you've caused Karmas a bitch It's lonely at the top Not when you're GOD Get off my rock Did you miss an appointment? Nah, can't do it Why what happened Too high up. Whatchu mean So what, it's just like Done. Well, this is it, huh guys. Oh, yeah, it's that, alright This is the longest ride we ever took.d This is the ONLY ride we ever took. I WANNA GET OFF THIS RIDE. I AM REALLY HIGH UP. JUST LET GO. NO. NO. NO. Put me down, kite!!! KITE wtf do you want me to do. I'm a KITE. I'm YOU FUCKIN KIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—- Well, I'll be honest, man, this sets you back, some How far back GET GONE, But? We're dinosaurs. Why would something with razor sharp teeth be so— —peaceful, and friendly?? T-REX …cuddles. I just can't fake the feeling( I can't pretend to cry It just comes, when it does But when the well runs dry That's when the the world will end That's when the world will end After this movie, I guarantee we will no longer need the Wilhelm scream AGGGGGHHHHHHH!!! YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHHH UUUUUUUUUUUUU This movie broke the world record for the amount of times the word “No” was screamed NO NOH. NO. ‘No! NOOOOOOOOOOO! NONONO. NOOOOOOOAAAAAHH …No! Here they all come for her, Defended upon New York In order of important, or appearance? One doesn't wonder, At al, of what's to come Uncommon, we are The call has come TRACY My tummy hurts. That's probably because you've been drinking straight tequila for the last hour and a half. No I haven't! This is water! Tequila is YELLOW, Liz Lemon! No, Tracy—that's silver tequila, And regular tequila is, You know what? Nevermind. Alright, who's got the night shift? [nobody raises their hand, at all] Seriously guys?! Come on! COME ON! Look up WHAM! For some reason, idk. Can we just— not do this? No. Out of my mind a bit Speaking in tongues, In total silence Guess it's the times, I guess that's just who I am And who I am is I said I was Sam I'm the same, I said, “Say Uncle” I guess it's a game, we're playing I don't want to be played with At all I just want to feel loved again By someone else Superb, like him I just want to be felt, I guess By someone else That's “Different” I just want to be kissed on the lips A splendid blend of Twisted trysts Let's not pretend It hasn't ended yet Until you've finished it Class dismissed again Let me off of it I just want it to stop Keep rolling Keep rolling your eyes in the back of your head Like you did just morning Just go for a walk Just stop for a moment Run a bath And just keep running Cause here something comes, Of course, It's all your callings Neatly rolling into one, They said But I Just want to be loved again And who doesn't That's the fucked up part I just want to be loved again But nobody ever Just comes up I just want to be loved again It's a walk in the park Don't follow the dog Even if he barks at you It's time to start again I wonder what comes after this part You are the gleaning in the shadows, The reckoning in my eye, The siren in my silence; The green in all the lights, I am a shamed to have just been One of your many One of your many Images, You still have me twisted, I miss you, It's just you, at the end, Again I left you where you left me Solid on solid Sounds are invalid now How are you so Swore by your awesome No more songs, I said No more songs, he's dead to me No more songs! She's inlisted He's uninterested, Isn't this interesting The problem is: I'm still in love with Everyone i've ever been in love with (And I love him) But he doesn't remember my Name And he's famous And she's crazy And he hates her But he made me hate him The day I became you The day I became So famous, I finally made it I'm dead It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night” C {CONFUSION SPELL, SUCCESSFUL} [Sequence Initiated.] {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god tv love jesus christ music american new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing simple er mit holy guns south satan funny night class forbes fortune taylor swift academy espn grammy started champion temple cold broadway sun run mcdonald dark beyonce quit fight motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash bar cheese gotta wicked lol heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica galaxy fuck riding congratulations wtf remove reverse blow classic writers solid wondering butterflies supply infinite images bitch yellow scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright keller realize fix john lennon repeat tight nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper tequila brotherhood alec baldwin bill murray infants hatred remind urgent hanukkah ham waking lexington aha cc i love ashamed mm mister whoopi goldberg curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections uncommon bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory speaking in tongues trader joe walked marked ambulance complications ur nevermind t rex keep up rubber irony cents hm wham rooftop bob saget mischief stumble kg shabbat idk kite reminding wilhelm kosher chevy chase rue skrillex polite wrecked mmm babysitting closest damages social studies hum fix it no love superb hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you shy goddamn hard days fairbanks rodney dangerfield caddyshack printed oof ata swallowed harold ramis sunni cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh defended jeez thoth long day ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww new york city department celibate happy accidents fuckers oh shit dangerfield suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman aight sunn ramis whatchu god get god for noh idlewild uuml swore cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan karmas satan jesus yaw hallmark cards grossing stay dead cellophane nevel ted knight cindy morgan palpitations god so say uncle rockefeller plaza goddamnit liz lemon google documents neatly brian doyle murray scatterbrained get gone ahaha mother of pearl get in the van iambic just let go ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

{Caddyshack} - Happy Accidents

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 13, 2024 65:01

“Caddyshack” (A Mumtidimentional Mixtape) {Enter The Multiverse} From Wikipedia: Caddyshack is a 1980 American sportscomedy film directed by Harold Ramis, written by Brian Doyle-Murray, Ramis and Douglas Kenney, and starring Chevy Chase, Rodney Dangerfield, Ted Knight, Michael O'Keefe and Bill Murray with supporting roles by Sarah Holcomb, Cindy Morgan, and Doyle-Murray. It tells the story of a caddie, vying for a caddie scholarship, who becomes involved in a feud on the links between one of the country club's founders and a nouveau riche guest. A subplot involves a greenskeeper who uses extreme methods against an elusive gopher. Caddyshack was Ramis's directorial debut and boosted the career of Dangerfield, who was previously known mostly for his stand-up comedy. Grossing nearly $40 million at the domestic box office (the 17th-highest of the year),[3] it was the first of a series of similar comedies. The film has a cult following and was described by ESPN as "perhaps the funniest sports movie ever made" SAUCE (IN CASE YOU MISSED IT) —- AHAHA. ITS ME AGAIN. OH SHIT! Oh shit, i guess it's Jimmy Fallon's Galaxy. Oh nooo. Oh, yes. Look at this penny. I see you. Now look into my eyes. I see you, Jesus. Ahahaha! Okay, now what? This shit is twisted I missed the shift of the dimensions— Till Jimmy walked in with his pennies For some cigarettes and swishers, Just to get the picture It's 5 AM again, And it's still Infinite, I'm disinterestedd as ever in living in LA, Or just living, period— But it is what it is, I work for my rent, I've repented for this, Used to sleep in a tent, But when I was an Infant, I instantly— Wait, a customer walked in. I better help him. Heaven help him. Another level, Call dr. Nevel, Or an Ambulance, I just can't get it Just can't get it, Wait, let's insert some of the script here, I guess. Took you long enough, didn't it? That took forever. How are you alive? Maybe I'm not. Finally, we agree on something. Oh, this guy Lol. Good to see you again. Likewise, now— Here it goes… As you promised. Working on it. As I promised. Take my heart for granted, Take my soul, If this is loveless Till the end, I just can't manage, having Thoughts of death and tragic ends I haven't Felt the same since Waking up without the day to come ahead; The day has passed again A test, No fail, or pass It's just progressive, In a trance, It's just the stress, It's just to pass the time, I guess, if this is purpose Then, we'll see if this is worth it Now, or never, then Now or never, Never had a friend, All envious at best, This is the end all, In the end, it's just Me and God, And God would want A better body, To have fun I wished it all at once, And then I watched it crumble Oh, I watched it Stumble in, again, my friend I'm different when it's wet, I might not never see the Sun again I might not ever love again Oh well “Oh well” , I said Oh, well, I guess Oh well Okay. One hour left. Okay. Who gets the gold? Hum. Honestly I didn't want to hear a thing ; I had quit music—I just wasn't cut out for the industry—I was, but not by societal standards by far; my lowly place in the smoke shop would have to do for now, and though I knew it wouldn't sustain, there wasn't much else I could do but keep showing up, for as long as it lasted—dresses in at least 2 layers and 5 pairs of socks tucked into boots two-sizes-too-big I had been forced to purchase specifically due to the frigid and painful, freezing temperatures at the locations I worked, which kept its doors open 24/7. Play Iambic. What, right now? Yeah, play Iambic. Uh… Iambic played st exactly 1 hour and 19 minutes—it's script, the transcribed rendition crafted especially for the Broadway stage, an 88-page-masterpiece collecting dust in the confines of my Google Documents, along with anything else I had written and had yet the advantage of placing anywhere besides my podcast channels, which I constantly thought about cancelling, despite its innumerous downloads—nothing really seemed to matter anymore, as I was trapped in my body, in a loveless world, in a dead-end job and though my bed was clean and comfy, sharing the room wirh 3 others became exhausting. INT. SMOKESHOP. 5:58 AM DREW BARRYMORE … SUPACREE … I'm done. I quit. QUIT?! YOU CAN'T QUIT. Nope. That's it. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. I hadn't quit the music industry—the music industry had quit me. I wasn't pretty enough, skinny enough, light skinned enough, or willing to do what any of the other girls were to get ahead. WTF is THIS. Since you like to troll so much, I just thought I'd turn you into one This is not Kosher, 199x Jimmy Fallon; Let me out of this plastic —not exactly “fireproof” — death box, before I let myself out, and I trap you in it. But oh, You already did. FIGHT. UGH OH. Ok, rotate. Who is this. Oh shit, hey dude. FUCK, what year is it? MEANWHILE, Under the bridge. …anybody seen this, uh… *Troll* Yee! *Troll* Alright. That's it. Everything checks out. The story was air tight. TIGHT, TIGHT I want you to wear this tonight “The Lady In The Red Dress” You really went all out for this I really didn't. lol Oh I see, You thought this was the matrix. MIT I WISH GOD Wish what. MIT … Mm. Did u see that. See what. ALRIGHT FUCK THIS, YA'LL IT GOT SERIOUS, WHERE'S MY CYCLOPS He called me his cyclops— —-and then he said LIKE GET OUT WHAT GET OUT OF MY HOUSE WHY CAUSE YOURE JUST A PIÑATA, MAN! And I ain't got time for that! I just got a DeLorean And a new HAT I gotta go get Oof. WRECKED. Yo, Wicked. KENDRICK (TODDLER) WIZARD. Oh my. I'm J00F'd up. | | | trance | | | Look; I gotta get out of this MOTHER OF PEARL do not beach this whale carcas on my warehouse project A what A beached whale I know You brought a beached whale to my fucking rave show Oh I get it It's Avant- Guarde No, that's just how I got here …. Trust me, it's okay that This never happened You did not see me It's because I wasn't there Is this U Ū No I wasn't there. Ü I was. Fuck. What happened. It's ok. All I remember is “The Quatardashians” Hmm Also The indigenous But that's it But mostly that was all just Jesus showing off his flexes Are u fasting? Yes, “Ū” is. So, do you need this?! TRUMPP Get rid of this recording imiidiately GOT IT. kill that bitch. SKRILLEX Yessir. —-but before all that happens. …did you want fries with that?! Why are we boycotting McDonald's —for poisoning —the allies —our enemies. Wait, you're eating this? Yes. Like, for fun, or like? No. This is what I'm feeding my children Why Cause they hungry. Uh, ok— —and there's six of them. Aight, ya'll can each have one nugget with your— I wanted a cheese burger! You git hamburgers. Ham. Cheese costs CENTS; And you know your momma If I ain't about a dollar - A dollop of Daisy You really are Ashamed of his Alright, you evil bastards. I see you want to Cause suffering Correct For which you will eternally recurve damnnation and all of the pain you've caused Karmas a bitch It's lonely at the top Not when you're GOD Get off my rock Did you miss an appointment? Nah, can't do it Why what happened Too high up. Whatchu mean So what, it's just like Done. Well, this is it, huh guys. Oh, yeah, it's that, alright This is the longest ride we ever took.d This is the ONLY ride we ever took. I WANNA GET OFF THIS RIDE. I AM REALLY HIGH UP. JUST LET GO. NO. NO. NO. Put me down, kite!!! KITE wtf do you want me to do. I'm a KITE. I'm YOU FUCKIN KIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—- Well, I'll be honest, man, this sets you back, some How far back GET GONE, But? We're dinosaurs. Why would something with razor sharp teeth be so— —peaceful, and friendly?? T-REX …cuddles. I just can't fake the feeling( I can't pretend to cry It just comes, when it does But when the well runs dry That's when the the world will end That's when the world will end After this movie, I guarantee we will no longer need the Wilhelm scream AGGGGGHHHHHHH!!! YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHHH UUUUUUUUUUUUU This movie broke the world record for the amount of times the word “No” was screamed NO NOH. NO. ‘No! NOOOOOOOOOOO! NONONO. NOOOOOOOAAAAAHH …No! Here they all come for her, Defended upon New York In order of important, or appearance? One doesn't wonder, At al, of what's to come Uncommon, we are The call has come TRACY My tummy hurts. That's probably because you've been drinking straight tequila for the last hour and a half. No I haven't! This is water! Tequila is YELLOW, Liz Lemon! No, Tracy—that's silver tequila, And regular tequila is, You know what? Nevermind. Alright, who's got the night shift? [nobody raises their hand, at all] Seriously guys?! Come on! COME ON! Look up WHAM! For some reason, idk. Can we just— not do this? No. Out of my mind a bit Speaking in tongues, In total silence Guess it's the times, I guess that's just who I am And who I am is I said I was Sam I'm the same, I said, “Say Uncle” I guess it's a game, we're playing I don't want to be played with At all I just want to feel loved again By someone else Superb, like him I just want to be felt, I guess By someone else That's “Different” I just want to be kissed on the lips A splendid blend of Twisted trysts Let's not pretend It hasn't ended yet Until you've finished it Class dismissed again Let me off of it I just want it to stop Keep rolling Keep rolling your eyes in the back of your head Like you did just morning Just go for a walk Just stop for a moment Run a bath And just keep running Cause here something comes, Of course, It's all your callings Neatly rolling into one, They said But I Just want to be loved again And who doesn't That's the fucked up part I just want to be loved again But nobody ever Just comes up I just want to be loved again It's a walk in the park Don't follow the dog Even if he barks at you It's time to start again I wonder what comes after this part You are the gleaning in the shadows, The reckoning in my eye, The siren in my silence; The green in all the lights, I am a shamed to have just been One of your many One of your many Images, You still have me twisted, I miss you, It's just you, at the end, Again I left you where you left me Solid on solid Sounds are invalid now How are you so Swore by your awesome No more songs, I said No more songs, he's dead to me No more songs! She's inlisted He's uninterested, Isn't this interesting The problem is: I'm still in love with Everyone i've ever been in love with (And I love him) But he doesn't remember my Name And he's famous And she's crazy And he hates her But he made me hate him The day I became you The day I became So famous, I finally made it I'm dead It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night” C {CONFUSION SPELL, SUCCESSFUL} [Sequence Initiated.] {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {

god tv love jesus christ music american new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing simple er mit holy guns south satan funny night class forbes fortune taylor swift academy espn grammy started champion temple cold broadway sun run mcdonald dark beyonce quit fight motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash bar cheese gotta wicked lol heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica galaxy fuck riding congratulations wtf remove reverse blow classic writers solid wondering butterflies supply infinite images bitch yellow scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright keller realize fix john lennon repeat tight nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper tequila brotherhood alec baldwin bill murray infants hatred remind urgent hanukkah ham waking lexington aha cc i love ashamed mm mister whoopi goldberg curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections uncommon bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory speaking in tongues trader joe walked marked ambulance complications ur nevermind t rex keep up rubber irony cents hm wham rooftop bob saget mischief stumble kg shabbat idk kite reminding wilhelm kosher chevy chase rue skrillex polite wrecked mmm babysitting closest damages social studies hum fix it no love superb hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you shy goddamn hard days fairbanks rodney dangerfield caddyshack printed oof ata swallowed harold ramis sunni cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh defended jeez thoth long day ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww new york city department celibate happy accidents fuckers oh shit dangerfield suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman aight sunn ramis whatchu god get god for noh idlewild uuml swore cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan karmas satan jesus yaw hallmark cards grossing stay dead cellophane nevel ted knight cindy morgan palpitations god so say uncle rockefeller plaza goddamnit liz lemon google documents neatly brian doyle murray scatterbrained get gone ahaha mother of pearl get in the van iambic just let go ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

Masters of Rap Tapes III: The Seven Souls Saga (Intro)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 21:37

Is it Psy or Sai I'm depressed because I don't know how to publish anything and I can't stop writing; I don't know what to do with anything I've written, And I'm always, Constantly stressed about money The things I need, And feel I should be working As if I haven't written more than what some writers with notoriety and fame have or had written in their lifetimes And now, to think, the fame and notoriety seem so small to me; I really just want the money and to be able to go away To some place quiet and peaceful, And to hold my son again. Shout out to the bass pod That's probably why my minds gone Shout out to the old God Your lady is a robot I am the programmer Might need a controller Take it all apart Put it back together I ain't in the ghetto Certified, it's gentrified Ah, dag. What. I missed the helipads AH DAG?! We're about to die, and all you can say is “ AH DAG” THERES MY INVISIBLE MOTORCYCLE. SHHH. Sorry. Unh.OUCH. Sorry. Well, I'm fresh out of [explitive] There's on FUUUUUUU—— F-f-f-f This is not cool! I have magical powers! HEY, watch it! That's odd—it should be cool having magical powers. It's not cool! I don't know what to do! What do I do with my hands! AGGHHHHHH. Well first of all, stop blowing shit up. [Dillon Francis is somehow, just—not famous; he is at camp EDC, being a wooky wook] READ: [Dillon Francis is a wooky wook. ] Correct. Damn, that is— Woah. That is wook. King James is getting into this narrative real deep Let's see why, I fictionalized this dick just to rationalize quickly What a king is I sing good, Cook dinner Me look awesome “Kill the kid,” they called for Another round, And another run So here I come I'm coming up On up-down rollercoasters Cardboard for your cup Cupboards, rocks and cutters Underwater, wishing of surfboard For sure mom, you kinda suck The energy from those is daughters But I wonder what it's worth If stars fall from the sky, To cross lovers Whatever Just a 30 rock crossword I'm Sunnï Blū but, Tracy just a replacement of me Sure it was I'm done God, I fully fucked up. Good job By putting all of my words into google documents In forms of proses and poses Instead of posing for pictures Or asking for roses It doesn't matter what happens The dirt was mud, But I rose up Like no one thought I could From sinking sand And ash dust In God, we don't trust the justice system Fuckin me up Keeping me married to pedophile A while longer So I fuckin die In due time What is right will find the judge And God of all on earth Will tell the story of Starr, And how he tossed his son on the couch Just to punch his mom Yep. He yeeted my baby I eated the nothing The revenge plot twist comes When Skrillex cosmic something Something some It was a downward spiral I was a backwards a hole And my scholarship Cussed out my mother Called her a cunt In her own country Cunty-cunty What the fuck you want? A doorknob that talks and locks A cat or caterpillar to smoke with And karma to choke Starr Like he golf balled And followed me all the way to Brooklyn Just to piss me off Just like a pussy I started the second book Where I left the first one off At Whole Foods market Where I left my snotted scarf at If you support Starr, You're more retarded than I thought If you support War You're better off Swallowin a gun, Like his mom Cause Mike Roberts Beat her up If you support Starr You're probably a predatory gangstalker But what for? You don't even know You got a small award For taking a walk Supporting physiological terrorism But never even Bothered to read the Terms of agreement: They said “Kill this nigger bitch” Keep her from getting any money or education So she can never be president I'm just a DJ, man But since then I've had secret enemies trying to kill me By psychology So they can see me die By my own hand And nothing can ever lead back to them That's how terrorism works, ya'll You're worried about Gaza When genocide happens right in the subway car On your way to work Where they make you late on purpose Even if you leave early Trying to workout, write a book, and leave your apartment looking perfect Who would deserve this? You think you're so perfect, But youre cursed by words, And worthless I think this earth is covered in stuff that it shouldn't be I think I'm 5'7 but the man of my dreams is 5'3 so I been meeting in the middle and stopped eating meat, Hanging from trees praying for freedom Cause something diseased has been following me coughing Like I'm the one who started poverty If that's the case, I must really be God or something But i'm not yo, I dropped my wallet on the bus, And somebody got a come up. A human error I need my hair done. I'm aware you're up there somewhere cause I hear you in my left ear, Jesus left us right here Cause the end is near When everybody's taking the side of a wifebeater And my eyes are wide closed Cause I still owe klarna money on my clothes This nobody is throwing weights, And nothing makes sense Cause karma's gonna take him Heavy, like the weights is Throw your weights pussy I was late coming But ain't had a rest day in 8 crazy days straight It's Christmas in LA Hollywood that is, Here's the blacklist: I hate blacks when They do that shit, Act whack like fucking crackheads Codeswitch like it isnt just niggers vs niggers The only enemy is inner, Fuck it, I'm late for dinner I been here nearly an hour, And lost my power to some animal wired to an app Fuck this matrix, I want my power back WTF is THIS. Since you like to troll so much, I just thought I'd turn you into one This is not Kosher, 199x Jimmy Fallon; Let me out of this plastic —not exactly “fireproof” — death box, before I let myself out, and I trap you in it. But oh, You already did. FIGHT. UGH OH. Ok, rotate. Who is this. Oh shit, hey dude. FUCK, what year is it? MEANWHILE, Under the bridge. …anybody seen this, uh… *Troll* Yee! *Troll* Alright. That's it. Everything checks out. The story was air tight. TIGHT, TIGHT I want you to wear this tonight “The Lady In The Red Dress” You really went all out for this I really didn't, lol Oh I see, You thought this was the matrix. MIT I WISH GOD Wish what. MIT … Mm. Did u see that. See what. ALRIGHT FUCK THIS, YA'LL IT GOT SERIOUS, WHERE'S MY CYCLOPS He called me his cyclops— —-and then he said LIKE GET OUT WHAT GET OUT OF MY HOUSE WHY CAUSE YOURE JUST A PIÑATA, MAN! And I ain't got time for that! I just got a DeLorean And a new HAT I gotta go get Oof. WRECKED. Yo, Wicked. KENDRICK (TODDLER) WIZARD. Oh my. I'm J00F'd up. | | | trance | | | Look; I gotta get out of this MOTHER OF PEARL do not beach this whale carcas on my warehouse project A what A beached whale I know You brought a beached whale to my fucking rave show Oh I get it It's Avant- Guarde No, that's just how I got here …. Trust me, it's okay that This never happened You did not see me It's because I wasn't there Is this U Ū No I wasn't there. Ü I was. Fuck. What happened. It's ok. All I remember is “The Quatardashians” Hmm Also The indigenous But that's it But mostly that was all just Jesus showing off his flexes Are u fasting? Yes, “Ū” is. So, do you need this?! TRUMPP Get rid of this recording imiidiately GOT IT. kill that bitch. SKRILLEX Yessir. —-but before all that happens. …did you want fries with that?! Why are we boycotting McDonald's —for poisoning —the allies —our enemies. Wait, you're eating this? Yes. Like, for fun, or like? No. This is what I'm feeding my children Why Cause they hungry. Uh, ok— —and there's six of them. Aight, ya'll can each have one nugget with your— I wanted a cheese burger! You git hamburgers. Ham. Cheese costs CENTS; And you know your momma If I ain't about a dollar - A dollop of Daisy You really are Ashamed of his Alright, you evil bastards. I see you want to Cause suffering Correct For which you will eternally recurve damnnation and all of the pain you've caused Karmas a bitch It's lonely at the top Not when you're GOD Get off my rock Did you miss an appointment? Nah, can't do it Why what happened Too high up. Whatchu mean So what, it's just like Done. Well, this is it, huh guys. Oh, yeah, it's that, alright This is the longest ride we ever took.d This is the ONLY ride we ever took. I WANNA GET OFF THIS RIDE. I AM REALLY HIGH UP. JUST LET GO. NO. NO. NO. Put me down, kite!!! KITE wtf do you want me to do. I'm a KITE. I'm YOU FUCKIN KIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—- Well, I'll be honest, man, this sets you back, some How far back GET GONE, But? We're dinosaurs. Why would something with razor sharp teeth be so— —peaceful, and friendly?? T-REX …cuddles. I just can't fake the feeling( I can't pretend to cry It just comes, when it does But when the well runs dry That's when the the world will end That's when the world will end After this movie, I guarantee we will no longer need the Wilhelm scream AGGGGGHHHHHHH!!! YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHHH UUUUUUUUUUUUU This movie broke the world record for the amount of times the word “No” was screamed NO NOH. NO. ‘No! NOOOOOOOOOOO! NONONO. NOOOOOOOAAAAAHH …No! Here they all come for her, Defended upon New York In order of important, or appearance? One doesn't wonder, At al, of what's to come Uncommon, we are The call has come TRACY My tummy hurts. That's probably because you've been drinking straight tequila for the last hour and a half. No I haven't! This is water! Tequila is YELLOW, Liz Lemon! No, Tracy—that's silver tequila, And regular tequila is, You know what? Nevermind. Alright, who's got the night shift? [nobody raises their hand, at all] Seriously guys?! Come on! COME ON! Look up WHAM! For some reason, idk. Can we just— not do this? No. Out of my mind a bit Speaking in tongues, In total silence Guess it's the times, I guess that's just who I am And who I am is I said I was Sam I'm the same, I said, “Say Uncle” I guess it's a game, we're playing I don't want to be played with At all I just want to feel loved again By someone else Superb, like him I just want to be felt, I guess By someone else That's “Different” I just want to be kissed on the lips A splendid blend of Twisted trysts Let's not pretend It hasn't ended yet Until you've finished it Class dismissed again Let me off of it I just want it to stop Keep rolling Keep rolling your eyes in the back of your head Like you did just morning Just go for a walk Just stop for a moment Run a bath And just keep running Cause here something comes, Of course, It's all your callings Neatly rolling into one, They said But I Just want to be loved again And who doesn't That's the fucked up part I just want to be loved again But nobody ever Just comes up I just want to be loved again It's a walk in the park Don't follow the dog Even if he barks at you It's time to start again I wonder what comes after this part You are the gleaning in the shadows, The reckoning in my eye, The siren in my silence; The green in all the lights, I am a shamed to have just been One of your many One of your many Images, You still have me twisted, I miss you, It's just you, at the end, Again I left you where you left me Solid on solid Sounds are invalid now How are you so Swore by your awesome No more songs, I said No more songs, he's dead to me No more songs! She's inlisted He's uninterested, Isn't this interesting The problem is: I'm still in love with Everyone i've ever been in love with (And I love him) But he doesn't remember my Name And he's famous And she's crazy And he hates her But he made me hate him The day I became you The day I became So famous, I finally made it I'm dead It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night” C {CONFUSION SPELL, SUCCESSFUL} [Sequence Initiated.]

christmas god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing masters simple er mit holy guns south satan funny night class forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run mcdonald dark beyonce fight motherhood networking manhattan straight speech act queens dinner worse burning saga worthy cook shit audience throw trash bar cheese gotta souls wicked heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck terms riding congratulations wtf remove reverse blow classic writers solid wondering butterflies hanging supply images bitch yellow scratch wash foreign shut certified younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright correct keller realize fix john lennon repeat tight nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper tequila brotherhood alec baldwin hatred remind urgent hanukkah tapes ham lexington aha underwater cc i love ashamed mm mister whoopi goldberg curses coming up shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections uncommon bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory speaking in tongues trader joe walked marked complications ur nevermind t rex keep up rubber irony cents hm wham rooftop bob saget psy mischief kg shabbat idk kite king james reminding wilhelm kosher rue skrillex polite edc wrecked cardboard mmm babysitting closest damages social studies fix it shhh no love superb hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you bothered shy goddamn hard days fairbanks printed oof ata swallowed sunni fuckin cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh defended jeez thoth long day dillon francis ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww code switch new york city department celibate unh fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman aight sunn whatchu god get noh god for idlewild uuml swore cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan karmas satan jesus yaw hallmark cards stay dead cupboards cellophane palpitations god so say uncle rockefeller plaza goddamnit liz lemon neatly scatterbrained get gone mother of pearl cunty get in the van just let go ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

[A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Menorah]

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 55:38

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell Now I don't wanna love no more i don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect— Look at me, feeling me, feeling you Now look at you, feeling you feeling me Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. Don't be so sure of yourself. I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down Watch out, and watch this: Too many apps on my phone I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis And stuck in a state of trance —i thought it was armin van buren at one point I have to give up at some point, writing, right? Now this is just point in history Point me away from the misery Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat I'm hatching a plan to go mad, But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes What the Fuck does that mean? I don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis How many hats to you have? Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. Well. He Sauced up, then. What kind of sauce is that?! I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it. DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. Oh. The above and beyond part. That's funny. I was just— So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then… I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part. What part? I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz) From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station. Monologue/Montage I fell in love with you...it was an accident. I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since. Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face… Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read. Probably, anyway. I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all. Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me; It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'. Silence. Nature. Astrology. My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years. I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything, except be. Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars… And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you. Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof. Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked. I love you because it is in me to do so. I will always love you, always. There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you; All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart. In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard. To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked. Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you. Flaws are what create our perfection; God is, as I am. Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire; Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind… the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye; How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those? How could I not know you, as I have? Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some; To all, rather than none. So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry. I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude; A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance. I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you. Find me, again As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station. Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet? Skrillex is a lot of things SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! I found this gym because of Dillon Francis— I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband; I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, How they love dancing and laughing for me; And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants; They dance oh-so rhythmically They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth. I That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it, White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.” MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE) SUPACREE So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without... [The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. I thought it was something more clever. Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents. Write ”Untitled Document” That's all I've got, I guess. _____ [A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ. A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. I never thought she'd get to this part. Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food-- ---yeah, but that's like 6 different places-- She's not listening to Skrillex. --She's not skipping it-- --yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. I thought we were past “why” We were, we were WAY past “why” It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it. “Don't worry about it” Tsh. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat) I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. It's not, I already told you what planet you're on? __ Now, tell us why we wear our masks! Oh, there are lots of reasons for that. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! That would be a long story. __ Oh, the Google kids are cute, too. I especially love that little chunky one. He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish. Okay; my mother is Jewish. Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. Do you want a cup of coffee? I want you to shut the fuck up. What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar. Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on conciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… I just wanted to know how long it would take? ___ I know someone that cold get us in _____ (Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her. She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her. You didn't mention that she was-- Be careful with your words. Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful. You're losing your power over her and it shows. Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm? I haven't any power over her-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ awww look at that bass face. Well, that's one reason... __ Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that You can, it just takes practice. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

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[15 Minutes of Fame]

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 15:28

It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night”

god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing simple er holy guns south satan funny night forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run dark beyonce motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash bar gotta heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic writers wondering butterflies supply bitch scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright keller realize fix john lennon repeat nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper brotherhood alec baldwin hatred remind urgent hanukkah lexington aha cc i love mister whoopi goldberg coming up curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory trader joe walked marked complications ur keep up rubber irony hm rooftop bob saget mischief kg shabbat idk reminding rue skrillex polite mmm babysitting closest damages social studies fix it no love hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you shy goddamn hard days fairbanks printed swallowed sunni cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh jeez thoth long day ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww new york city department celibate fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman sunn god for noh idlewild minutes of fame cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan satan jesus yaw hallmark cards stay dead cellophane palpitations god so rockefeller plaza goddamnit scatterbrained get in the van ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

[A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Menorah]

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 55:38

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell Now I don't wanna love no more i don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect— Look at me, feeling me, feeling you Now look at you, feeling you feeling me Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. Don't be so sure of yourself. I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down Watch out, and watch this: Too many apps on my phone I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis And stuck in a state of trance —i thought it was armin van buren at one point I have to give up at some point, writing, right? Now this is just point in history Point me away from the misery Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat I'm hatching a plan to go mad, But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes What the Fuck does that mean? I don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis How many hats to you have? Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. Well. He Sauced up, then. What kind of sauce is that?! I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it. DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. Oh. The above and beyond part. That's funny. I was just— So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then… I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part. What part? I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz) From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station. Monologue/Montage I fell in love with you...it was an accident. I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since. Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face… Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read. Probably, anyway. I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all. Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me; It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'. Silence. Nature. Astrology. My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years. I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything, except be. Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars… And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you. Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof. Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked. I love you because it is in me to do so. I will always love you, always. There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you; All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart. In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard. To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked. Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you. Flaws are what create our perfection; God is, as I am. Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire; Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind… the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye; How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those? How could I not know you, as I have? Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some; To all, rather than none. So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry. I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude; A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance. I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you. Find me, again As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station. Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet? Skrillex is a lot of things SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! I found this gym because of Dillon Francis— I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband; I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, How they love dancing and laughing for me; And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants; They dance oh-so rhythmically They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth. I That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it, White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.” MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE) SUPACREE So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without... [The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. I thought it was something more clever. Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents. Write ”Untitled Document” That's all I've got, I guess. _____ [A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ. A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. I never thought she'd get to this part. Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food-- ---yeah, but that's like 6 different places-- She's not listening to Skrillex. --She's not skipping it-- --yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. I thought we were past “why” We were, we were WAY past “why” It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it. “Don't worry about it” Tsh. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat) I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. It's not, I already told you what planet you're on? __ Now, tell us why we wear our masks! Oh, there are lots of reasons for that. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! That would be a long story. __ Oh, the Google kids are cute, too. I especially love that little chunky one. He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish. Okay; my mother is Jewish. Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. Do you want a cup of coffee? I want you to shut the fuck up. What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar. Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on conciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… I just wanted to know how long it would take? ___ I know someone that cold get us in _____ (Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her. She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her. You didn't mention that she was-- Be careful with your words. Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful. You're losing your power over her and it shows. Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm? I haven't any power over her-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ awww look at that bass face. Well, that's one reason... __ Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that You can, it just takes practice. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

god tv love jesus christ american new york time game donald trump lord babies google earth hollywood peace disney man mother las vegas men work woman hell real mexico land living nature thinking dj marvel rich stars ny devil mind army losing safe south open write satan mom silence hands unity jewish tales african 3d attack fbi baseball student park run jews stuck alaska advocates humans force touch ride beyonce ufos oprah winfrey matrix jump sick fruit alien manhattan golden legends impossible queens scary calm tears receive sexy identify demons cia decide boy meat blame sitting loneliness eat honestly anime cheese gotta expanding worlds lol elephants empty levels losers parable fuck tom cruise guys rock and roll passover equality riding wtf astrology loud rihanna bet i am dollar fearless lover knock guatemala irs call of duty camping stops bitch greed gross scratch individuals hulk grass marry goddess djs solitude grounded adam sandler rabbi copyright beverly hills won thank god roof suit sauce chris brown nah mad omg shut up whole foods motor conundrum gta blackout neck ridiculous conan darling cape town mankind pan opened companion herman screw illuminati secret service oreo io usb charging admit cc central park mm feds suits chester flaws us government jimmy fallon graveyards snoop blu swat abandon willpower axis reckless marked ambulance nevermind yea cree probiotics tmz seth rogen underneath amnesia hunted rooster hm repeating woody harrelson cajun duh rugs bob saget avicii opponent outward mark ruffalo shia labeouf roasted omni protagonists dimensional duff cupcakes dawg google search bpm skrillex haunts pennies sunglasses deserved ascended mmm mmorpgs unexpectedly oh my god morpheus bleep caviar incognito deadmau5 gelato game over nautilus unwritten cookie monster abort sunni yah imaginary friends katt my lord ahem umm pasquale hehe hazy menorah jeeps bookkeepers peacefully stop it chal tsh funny thing benny benassi marry me dillon francis synesthesia scientologists concurrently ohh ow aww not me ext go karts heh silent partner excision okie royal flush getter backlogs uhh unrequited mangoes w hotel sunn to be continued mits talenti vibrate diverging omniverse moderately my eyes bangarang relapses bejing empyrean shhhhhh ahah cancerous 1i agh patrice o'neal one you i guess look at me manned lvl periwinkle shut the fuck up i am god what the fuck farro i dj uhhhhh kablam liz lemon hanzel hesh two jewish my iphone superstar dj quasimoto liquid stranger herobust god just josh pan i eat you died what game lovers quarrel lvac cookie monsta drake work mazunte sonny moore star wars party joel zimmerman pda public displays untitled document

Masters of Rap Tapes III: The Seven Souls Saga (Intro)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 21:37

Is it Psy or Sai I'm depressed because I don't know how to publish anything and I can't stop writing; I don't know what to do with anything I've written, And I'm always, Constantly stressed about money The things I need, And feel I should be working As if I haven't written more than what some writers with notoriety and fame have or had written in their lifetimes And now, to think, the fame and notoriety seem so small to me; I really just want the money and to be able to go away To some place quiet and peaceful, And to hold my son again. Shout out to the bass pod That's probably why my minds gone Shout out to the old God Your lady is a robot I am the programmer Might need a controller Take it all apart Put it back together I ain't in the ghetto Certified, it's gentrified Ah, dag. What. I missed the helipads AH DAG?! We're about to die, and all you can say is “ AH DAG” THERES MY INVISIBLE MOTORCYCLE. SHHH. Sorry. Unh.OUCH. Sorry. Well, I'm fresh out of [explitive] There's on FUUUUUUU—— F-f-f-f This is not cool! I have magical powers! HEY, watch it! That's odd—it should be cool having magical powers. It's not cool! I don't know what to do! What do I do with my hands! AGGHHHHHH. Well first of all, stop blowing shit up. [Dillon Francis is somehow, just—not famous; he is at camp EDC, being a wooky wook] READ: [Dillon Francis is a wooky wook. ] Correct. Damn, that is— Woah. That is wook. King James is getting into this narrative real deep Let's see why, I fictionalized this dick just to rationalize quickly What a king is I sing good, Cook dinner Me look awesome “Kill the kid,” they called for Another round, And another run So here I come I'm coming up On up-down rollercoasters Cardboard for your cup Cupboards, rocks and cutters Underwater, wishing of surfboard For sure mom, you kinda suck The energy from those is daughters But I wonder what it's worth If stars fall from the sky, To cross lovers Whatever Just a 30 rock crossword I'm Sunnï Blū but, Tracy just a replacement of me Sure it was I'm done God, I fully fucked up. Good job By putting all of my words into google documents In forms of proses and poses Instead of posing for pictures Or asking for roses It doesn't matter what happens The dirt was mud, But I rose up Like no one thought I could From sinking sand And ash dust In God, we don't trust the justice system Fuckin me up Keeping me married to pedophile A while longer So I fuckin die In due time What is right will find the judge And God of all on earth Will tell the story of Starr, And how he tossed his son on the couch Just to punch his mom Yep. He yeeted my baby I eated the nothing The revenge plot twist comes When Skrillex cosmic something Something some It was a downward spiral I was a backwards a hole And my scholarship Cussed out my mother Called her a cunt In her own country Cunty-cunty What the fuck you want? A doorknob that talks and locks A cat or caterpillar to smoke with And karma to choke Starr Like he golf balled And followed me all the way to Brooklyn Just to piss me off Just like a pussy I started the second book Where I left the first one off At Whole Foods market Where I left my snotted scarf at If you support Starr, You're more retarded than I thought If you support War You're better off Swallowin a gun, Like his mom Cause Mike Roberts Beat her up If you support Starr You're probably a predatory gangstalker But what for? You don't even know You got a small award For taking a walk Supporting physiological terrorism But never even Bothered to read the Terms of agreement: They said “Kill this nigger bitch” Keep her from getting any money or education So she can never be president I'm just a DJ, man But since then I've had secret enemies trying to kill me By psychology So they can see me die By my own hand And nothing can ever lead back to them That's how terrorism works, ya'll You're worried about Gaza When genocide happens right in the subway car On your way to work Where they make you late on purpose Even if you leave early Trying to workout, write a book, and leave your apartment looking perfect Who would deserve this? You think you're so perfect, But youre cursed by words, And worthless I think this earth is covered in stuff that it shouldn't be I think I'm 5'7 but the man of my dreams is 5'3 so I been meeting in the middle and stopped eating meat, Hanging from trees praying for freedom Cause something diseased has been following me coughing Like I'm the one who started poverty If that's the case, I must really be God or something But i'm not yo, I dropped my wallet on the bus, And somebody got a come up. A human error I need my hair done. I'm aware you're up there somewhere cause I hear you in my left ear, Jesus left us right here Cause the end is near When everybody's taking the side of a wifebeater And my eyes are wide closed Cause I still owe klarna money on my clothes This nobody is throwing weights, And nothing makes sense Cause karma's gonna take him Heavy, like the weights is Throw your weights pussy I was late coming But ain't had a rest day in 8 crazy days straight It's Christmas in LA Hollywood that is, Here's the blacklist: I hate blacks when They do that shit, Act whack like fucking crackheads Codeswitch like it isnt just niggers vs niggers The only enemy is inner, Fuck it, I'm late for dinner I been here nearly an hour, And lost my power to some animal wired to an app Fuck this matrix, I want my power back WTF is THIS. Since you like to troll so much, I just thought I'd turn you into one This is not Kosher, 199x Jimmy Fallon; Let me out of this plastic —not exactly “fireproof” — death box, before I let myself out, and I trap you in it. But oh, You already did. FIGHT. UGH OH. Ok, rotate. Who is this. Oh shit, hey dude. FUCK, what year is it? MEANWHILE, Under the bridge. …anybody seen this, uh… *Troll* Yee! *Troll* Alright. That's it. Everything checks out. The story was air tight. TIGHT, TIGHT I want you to wear this tonight “The Lady In The Red Dress” You really went all out for this I really didn't, lol Oh I see, You thought this was the matrix. MIT I WISH GOD Wish what. MIT … Mm. Did u see that. See what. ALRIGHT FUCK THIS, YA'LL IT GOT SERIOUS, WHERE'S MY CYCLOPS He called me his cyclops— —-and then he said LIKE GET OUT WHAT GET OUT OF MY HOUSE WHY CAUSE YOURE JUST A PIÑATA, MAN! And I ain't got time for that! I just got a DeLorean And a new HAT I gotta go get Oof. WRECKED. Yo, Wicked. KENDRICK (TODDLER) WIZARD. Oh my. I'm J00F'd up. | | | trance | | | Look; I gotta get out of this MOTHER OF PEARL do not beach this whale carcas on my warehouse project A what A beached whale I know You brought a beached whale to my fucking rave show Oh I get it It's Avant- Guarde No, that's just how I got here …. Trust me, it's okay that This never happened You did not see me It's because I wasn't there Is this U Ū No I wasn't there. Ü I was. Fuck. What happened. It's ok. All I remember is “The Quatardashians” Hmm Also The indigenous But that's it But mostly that was all just Jesus showing off his flexes Are u fasting? Yes, “Ū” is. So, do you need this?! TRUMPP Get rid of this recording imiidiately GOT IT. kill that bitch. SKRILLEX Yessir. —-but before all that happens. …did you want fries with that?! Why are we boycotting McDonald's —for poisoning —the allies —our enemies. Wait, you're eating this? Yes. Like, for fun, or like? No. This is what I'm feeding my children Why Cause they hungry. Uh, ok— —and there's six of them. Aight, ya'll can each have one nugget with your— I wanted a cheese burger! You git hamburgers. Ham. Cheese costs CENTS; And you know your momma If I ain't about a dollar - A dollop of Daisy You really are Ashamed of his Alright, you evil bastards. I see you want to Cause suffering Correct For which you will eternally recurve damnnation and all of the pain you've caused Karmas a bitch It's lonely at the top Not when you're GOD Get off my rock Did you miss an appointment? Nah, can't do it Why what happened Too high up. Whatchu mean So what, it's just like Done. Well, this is it, huh guys. Oh, yeah, it's that, alright This is the longest ride we ever took.d This is the ONLY ride we ever took. I WANNA GET OFF THIS RIDE. I AM REALLY HIGH UP. JUST LET GO. NO. NO. NO. Put me down, kite!!! KITE wtf do you want me to do. I'm a KITE. I'm YOU FUCKIN KIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—- Well, I'll be honest, man, this sets you back, some How far back GET GONE, But? We're dinosaurs. Why would something with razor sharp teeth be so— —peaceful, and friendly?? T-REX …cuddles. I just can't fake the feeling( I can't pretend to cry It just comes, when it does But when the well runs dry That's when the the world will end That's when the world will end After this movie, I guarantee we will no longer need the Wilhelm scream AGGGGGHHHHHHH!!! YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHHH UUUUUUUUUUUUU This movie broke the world record for the amount of times the word “No” was screamed NO NOH. NO. ‘No! NOOOOOOOOOOO! NONONO. NOOOOOOOAAAAAHH …No! Here they all come for her, Defended upon New York In order of important, or appearance? One doesn't wonder, At al, of what's to come Uncommon, we are The call has come TRACY My tummy hurts. That's probably because you've been drinking straight tequila for the last hour and a half. No I haven't! This is water! Tequila is YELLOW, Liz Lemon! No, Tracy—that's silver tequila, And regular tequila is, You know what? Nevermind. Alright, who's got the night shift? [nobody raises their hand, at all] Seriously guys?! Come on! COME ON! Look up WHAM! For some reason, idk. Can we just— not do this? No. Out of my mind a bit Speaking in tongues, In total silence Guess it's the times, I guess that's just who I am And who I am is I said I was Sam I'm the same, I said, “Say Uncle” I guess it's a game, we're playing I don't want to be played with At all I just want to feel loved again By someone else Superb, like him I just want to be felt, I guess By someone else That's “Different” I just want to be kissed on the lips A splendid blend of Twisted trysts Let's not pretend It hasn't ended yet Until you've finished it Class dismissed again Let me off of it I just want it to stop Keep rolling Keep rolling your eyes in the back of your head Like you did just morning Just go for a walk Just stop for a moment Run a bath And just keep running Cause here something comes, Of course, It's all your callings Neatly rolling into one, They said But I Just want to be loved again And who doesn't That's the fucked up part I just want to be loved again But nobody ever Just comes up I just want to be loved again It's a walk in the park Don't follow the dog Even if he barks at you It's time to start again I wonder what comes after this part You are the gleaning in the shadows, The reckoning in my eye, The siren in my silence; The green in all the lights, I am a shamed to have just been One of your many One of your many Images, You still have me twisted, I miss you, It's just you, at the end, Again I left you where you left me Solid on solid Sounds are invalid now How are you so Swore by your awesome No more songs, I said No more songs, he's dead to me No more songs! She's inlisted He's uninterested, Isn't this interesting The problem is: I'm still in love with Everyone i've ever been in love with (And I love him) But he doesn't remember my Name And he's famous And she's crazy And he hates her But he made me hate him The day I became you The day I became So famous, I finally made it I'm dead It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night” C {CONFUSION SPELL, SUCCESSFUL} [Sequence Initiated.]

christmas god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing masters simple er mit holy guns south satan funny night class forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run mcdonald dark beyonce fight motherhood networking manhattan straight speech act queens dinner worse burning saga worthy cook shit audience throw trash bar cheese gotta souls wicked heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck terms riding congratulations wtf remove reverse blow classic writers solid wondering butterflies hanging supply images bitch yellow scratch wash foreign shut certified younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright correct keller realize fix john lennon repeat tight nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper tequila brotherhood alec baldwin hatred remind urgent hanukkah tapes ham lexington aha underwater cc i love ashamed mm mister whoopi goldberg curses coming up shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections uncommon bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory speaking in tongues trader joe walked marked complications ur nevermind t rex keep up rubber irony cents hm wham rooftop bob saget psy mischief kg shabbat idk kite king james reminding wilhelm kosher rue skrillex polite edc wrecked cardboard mmm babysitting closest damages social studies fix it shhh no love superb hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you bothered shy goddamn hard days fairbanks printed oof ata swallowed sunni fuckin cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh defended jeez thoth long day dillon francis ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww code switch new york city department celibate unh fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman aight sunn whatchu god get noh god for idlewild uuml swore cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan karmas satan jesus yaw hallmark cards stay dead cupboards cellophane palpitations god so say uncle rockefeller plaza goddamnit liz lemon neatly scatterbrained get gone mother of pearl cunty get in the van just let go ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

Masters of Rap III: The Seven Souls Saga (Intro)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 21:37

Is it Psy or Sai I'm depressed because I don't know how to publish anything and I can't stop writing; I don't know what to do with anything I've written, And I'm always, Constantly stressed about money The things I need, And feel I should be working As if I haven't written more than what some writers with notoriety and fame have or had written in their lifetimes And now, to think, the fame and notoriety seem so small to me; I really just want the money and to be able to go away To some place quiet and peaceful, And to hold my son again. Shout out to the bass pod That's probably why my minds gone Shout out to the old God Your lady is a robot I am the programmer Might need a controller Take it all apart Put it back together I ain't in the ghetto Certified, it's gentrified Ah, dag. What. I missed the helipads AH DAG?! We're about to die, and all you can say is “ AH DAG” THERES MY INVISIBLE MOTORCYCLE. SHHH. Sorry. Unh.OUCH. Sorry. Well, I'm fresh out of [explitive] There's on FUUUUUUU—— F-f-f-f This is not cool! I have magical powers! HEY, watch it! That's odd—it should be cool having magical powers. It's not cool! I don't know what to do! What do I do with my hands! AGGHHHHHH. Well first of all, stop blowing shit up. [Dillon Francis is somehow, just—not famous; he is at camp EDC, being a wooky wook] READ: [Dillon Francis is a wooky wook. ] Correct. Damn, that is— Woah. That is wook. King James is getting into this narrative real deep Let's see why, I fictionalized this dick just to rationalize quickly What a king is I sing good, Cook dinner Me look awesome “Kill the kid,” they called for Another round, And another run So here I come I'm coming up On up-down rollercoasters Cardboard for your cup Cupboards, rocks and cutters Underwater, wishing of surfboard For sure mom, you kinda suck The energy from those is daughters But I wonder what it's worth If stars fall from the sky, To cross lovers Whatever Just a 30 rock crossword I'm Sunnï Blū but, Tracy just a replacement of me Sure it was I'm done God, I fully fucked up. Good job By putting all of my words into google documents In forms of proses and poses Instead of posing for pictures Or asking for roses It doesn't matter what happens The dirt was mud, But I rose up Like no one thought I could From sinking sand And ash dust In God, we don't trust the justice system Fuckin me up Keeping me married to pedophile A while longer So I fuckin die In due time What is right will find the judge And God of all on earth Will tell the story of Starr, And how he tossed his son on the couch Just to punch his mom Yep. He yeeted my baby I eated the nothing The revenge plot twist comes When Skrillex cosmic something Something some It was a downward spiral I was a backwards a hole And my scholarship Cussed out my mother Called her a cunt In her own country Cunty-cunty What the fuck you want? A doorknob that talks and locks A cat or caterpillar to smoke with And karma to choke Starr Like he golf balled And followed me all the way to Brooklyn Just to piss me off Just like a pussy I started the second book Where I left the first one off At Whole Foods market Where I left my snotted scarf at If you support Starr, You're more retarded than I thought If you support War You're better off Swallowin a gun, Like his mom Cause Mike Roberts Beat her up If you support Starr You're probably a predatory gangstalker But what for? You don't even know You got a small award For taking a walk Supporting physiological terrorism But never even Bothered to read the Terms of agreement: They said “Kill this nigger bitch” Keep her from getting any money or education So she can never be president I'm just a DJ, man But since then I've had secret enemies trying to kill me By psychology So they can see me die By my own hand And nothing can ever lead back to them That's how terrorism works, ya'll You're worried about Gaza When genocide happens right in the subway car On your way to work Where they make you late on purpose Even if you leave early Trying to workout, write a book, and leave your apartment looking perfect Who would deserve this? You think you're so perfect, But youre cursed by words, And worthless I think this earth is covered in stuff that it shouldn't be I think I'm 5'7 but the man of my dreams is 5'3 so I been meeting in the middle and stopped eating meat, Hanging from trees praying for freedom Cause something diseased has been following me coughing Like I'm the one who started poverty If that's the case, I must really be God or something But i'm not yo, I dropped my wallet on the bus, And somebody got a come up. A human error I need my hair done. I'm aware you're up there somewhere cause I hear you in my left ear, Jesus left us right here Cause the end is near When everybody's taking the side of a wifebeater And my eyes are wide closed Cause I still owe klarna money on my clothes This nobody is throwing weights, And nothing makes sense Cause karma's gonna take him Heavy, like the weights is Throw your weights pussy I was late coming But ain't had a rest day in 8 crazy days straight It's Christmas in LA Hollywood that is, Here's the blacklist: I hate blacks when They do that shit, Act whack like fucking crackheads Codeswitch like it isnt just niggers vs niggers The only enemy is inner, Fuck it, I'm late for dinner I been here nearly an hour, And lost my power to some animal wired to an app Fuck this matrix, I want my power back WTF is THIS. Since you like to troll so much, I just thought I'd turn you into one This is not Kosher, 199x Jimmy Fallon; Let me out of this plastic —not exactly “fireproof” — death box, before I let myself out, and I trap you in it. But oh, You already did. FIGHT. UGH OH. Ok, rotate. Who is this. Oh shit, hey dude. FUCK, what year is it? MEANWHILE, Under the bridge. …anybody seen this, uh… *Troll* Yee! *Troll* Alright. That's it. Everything checks out. The story was air tight. TIGHT, TIGHT I want you to wear this tonight “The Lady In The Red Dress” You really went all out for this I really didn't, lol Oh I see, You thought this was the matrix. MIT I WISH GOD Wish what. MIT … Mm. Did u see that. See what. ALRIGHT FUCK THIS, YA'LL IT GOT SERIOUS, WHERE'S MY CYCLOPS He called me his cyclops— —-and then he said LIKE GET OUT WHAT GET OUT OF MY HOUSE WHY CAUSE YOURE JUST A PIÑATA, MAN! And I ain't got time for that! I just got a DeLorean And a new HAT I gotta go get Oof. WRECKED. Yo, Wicked. KENDRICK (TODDLER) WIZARD. Oh my. I'm J00F'd up. | | | trance | | | Look; I gotta get out of this MOTHER OF PEARL do not beach this whale carcas on my warehouse project A what A beached whale I know You brought a beached whale to my fucking rave show Oh I get it It's Avant- Guarde No, that's just how I got here …. Trust me, it's okay that This never happened You did not see me It's because I wasn't there Is this U Ū No I wasn't there. Ü I was. Fuck. What happened. It's ok. All I remember is “The Quatardashians” Hmm Also The indigenous But that's it But mostly that was all just Jesus showing off his flexes Are u fasting? Yes, “Ū” is. So, do you need this?! TRUMPP Get rid of this recording imiidiately GOT IT. kill that bitch. SKRILLEX Yessir. —-but before all that happens. …did you want fries with that?! Why are we boycotting McDonald's —for poisoning —the allies —our enemies. Wait, you're eating this? Yes. Like, for fun, or like? No. This is what I'm feeding my children Why Cause they hungry. Uh, ok— —and there's six of them. Aight, ya'll can each have one nugget with your— I wanted a cheese burger! You git hamburgers. Ham. Cheese costs CENTS; And you know your momma If I ain't about a dollar - A dollop of Daisy You really are Ashamed of his Alright, you evil bastards. I see you want to Cause suffering Correct For which you will eternally recurve damnnation and all of the pain you've caused Karmas a bitch It's lonely at the top Not when you're GOD Get off my rock Did you miss an appointment? Nah, can't do it Why what happened Too high up. Whatchu mean So what, it's just like Done. Well, this is it, huh guys. Oh, yeah, it's that, alright This is the longest ride we ever took.d This is the ONLY ride we ever took. I WANNA GET OFF THIS RIDE. I AM REALLY HIGH UP. JUST LET GO. NO. NO. NO. Put me down, kite!!! KITE wtf do you want me to do. I'm a KITE. I'm YOU FUCKIN KIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—- Well, I'll be honest, man, this sets you back, some How far back GET GONE, But? We're dinosaurs. Why would something with razor sharp teeth be so— —peaceful, and friendly?? T-REX …cuddles. I just can't fake the feeling( I can't pretend to cry It just comes, when it does But when the well runs dry That's when the the world will end That's when the world will end After this movie, I guarantee we will no longer need the Wilhelm scream AGGGGGHHHHHHH!!! YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHHH UUUUUUUUUUUUU This movie broke the world record for the amount of times the word “No” was screamed NO NOH. NO. ‘No! NOOOOOOOOOOO! NONONO. NOOOOOOOAAAAAHH …No! Here they all come for her, Defended upon New York In order of important, or appearance? One doesn't wonder, At al, of what's to come Uncommon, we are The call has come TRACY My tummy hurts. That's probably because you've been drinking straight tequila for the last hour and a half. No I haven't! This is water! Tequila is YELLOW, Liz Lemon! No, Tracy—that's silver tequila, And regular tequila is, You know what? Nevermind. Alright, who's got the night shift? [nobody raises their hand, at all] Seriously guys?! Come on! COME ON! Look up WHAM! For some reason, idk. Can we just— not do this? No. Out of my mind a bit Speaking in tongues, In total silence Guess it's the times, I guess that's just who I am And who I am is I said I was Sam I'm the same, I said, “Say Uncle” I guess it's a game, we're playing I don't want to be played with At all I just want to feel loved again By someone else Superb, like him I just want to be felt, I guess By someone else That's “Different” I just want to be kissed on the lips A splendid blend of Twisted trysts Let's not pretend It hasn't ended yet Until you've finished it Class dismissed again Let me off of it I just want it to stop Keep rolling Keep rolling your eyes in the back of your head Like you did just morning Just go for a walk Just stop for a moment Run a bath And just keep running Cause here something comes, Of course, It's all your callings Neatly rolling into one, They said But I Just want to be loved again And who doesn't That's the fucked up part I just want to be loved again But nobody ever Just comes up I just want to be loved again It's a walk in the park Don't follow the dog Even if he barks at you It's time to start again I wonder what comes after this part You are the gleaning in the shadows, The reckoning in my eye, The siren in my silence; The green in all the lights, I am a shamed to have just been One of your many One of your many Images, You still have me twisted, I miss you, It's just you, at the end, Again I left you where you left me Solid on solid Sounds are invalid now How are you so Swore by your awesome No more songs, I said No more songs, he's dead to me No more songs! She's inlisted He's uninterested, Isn't this interesting The problem is: I'm still in love with Everyone i've ever been in love with (And I love him) But he doesn't remember my Name And he's famous And she's crazy And he hates her But he made me hate him The day I became you The day I became So famous, I finally made it I'm dead It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night” C {CONFUSION SPELL, SUCCESSFUL} [Sequence Initiated.]

christmas god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing masters simple er mit holy guns south satan funny night class forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run mcdonald dark beyonce fight motherhood networking manhattan straight speech act queens dinner worse burning saga worthy cook shit audience throw trash bar cheese gotta souls wicked heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck terms riding congratulations wtf remove reverse blow classic writers solid wondering butterflies hanging supply images bitch yellow scratch wash foreign shut certified younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright correct keller realize fix john lennon repeat tight nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper tequila brotherhood alec baldwin hatred remind urgent hanukkah ham lexington aha underwater cc i love ashamed mm mister whoopi goldberg curses coming up shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections uncommon bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory speaking in tongues trader joe walked marked complications ur nevermind t rex keep up rubber irony cents hm wham rooftop bob saget psy mischief kg shabbat idk kite king james reminding wilhelm kosher rue skrillex polite edc wrecked cardboard mmm babysitting closest damages social studies fix it shhh no love superb hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you bothered shy goddamn hard days fairbanks printed oof ata swallowed sunni fuckin cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh defended jeez thoth long day dillon francis ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww code switch new york city department celibate unh fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman aight sunn whatchu god get noh god for idlewild uuml swore cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan karmas satan jesus yaw hallmark cards stay dead cupboards cellophane palpitations god so say uncle rockefeller plaza goddamnit liz lemon neatly scatterbrained get gone mother of pearl cunty get in the van just let go ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

[15 Minutes of Fame]

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 15:28

It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night”

god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing simple er holy guns south satan funny night forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run dark beyonce motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash bar gotta heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic writers wondering butterflies supply bitch scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright keller realize fix john lennon repeat nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper brotherhood alec baldwin hatred remind urgent hanukkah lexington aha cc i love mister whoopi goldberg coming up curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory trader joe walked marked complications ur keep up rubber irony hm rooftop bob saget mischief kg shabbat idk reminding rue skrillex polite mmm babysitting closest damages social studies fix it no love hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you shy goddamn hard days fairbanks printed swallowed sunni cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh jeez thoth long day ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww new york city department celibate fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman sunn god for noh idlewild minutes of fame cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan satan jesus yaw hallmark cards stay dead cellophane palpitations god so rockefeller plaza goddamnit scatterbrained get in the van ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

[A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Menorah]

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 55:38

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell Now I don't wanna love no more i don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect— Look at me, feeling me, feeling you Now look at you, feeling you feeling me Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. Don't be so sure of yourself. I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down Watch out, and watch this: Too many apps on my phone I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis And stuck in a state of trance —i thought it was armin van buren at one point I have to give up at some point, writing, right? Now this is just point in history Point me away from the misery Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat I'm hatching a plan to go mad, But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes What the Fuck does that mean? I don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis How many hats to you have? Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. Well. He Sauced up, then. What kind of sauce is that?! I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it. DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. Oh. The above and beyond part. That's funny. I was just— So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then… I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part. What part? I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz) From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station. Monologue/Montage I fell in love with you...it was an accident. I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since. Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face… Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read. Probably, anyway. I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all. Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me; It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'. Silence. Nature. Astrology. My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years. I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything, except be. Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars… And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you. Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof. Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked. I love you because it is in me to do so. I will always love you, always. There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you; All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart. In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard. To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked. Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you. Flaws are what create our perfection; God is, as I am. Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire; Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind… the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye; How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those? How could I not know you, as I have? Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some; To all, rather than none. So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry. I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude; A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance. I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you. Find me, again As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station. Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet? Skrillex is a lot of things SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! I found this gym because of Dillon Francis— I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband; I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, How they love dancing and laughing for me; And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants; They dance oh-so rhythmically They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth. I That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it, White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.” MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE) SUPACREE So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without... [The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. I thought it was something more clever. Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents. Write ”Untitled Document” That's all I've got, I guess. _____ [A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ. A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. I never thought she'd get to this part. Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food-- ---yeah, but that's like 6 different places-- She's not listening to Skrillex. --She's not skipping it-- --yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. I thought we were past “why” We were, we were WAY past “why” It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it. “Don't worry about it” Tsh. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat) I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. It's not, I already told you what planet you're on? __ Now, tell us why we wear our masks! Oh, there are lots of reasons for that. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! That would be a long story. __ Oh, the Google kids are cute, too. I especially love that little chunky one. He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish. Okay; my mother is Jewish. Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. Do you want a cup of coffee? I want you to shut the fuck up. What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar. Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on conciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… I just wanted to know how long it would take? ___ I know someone that cold get us in _____ (Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her. She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her. You didn't mention that she was-- Be careful with your words. Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful. You're losing your power over her and it shows. Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm? I haven't any power over her-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ awww look at that bass face. Well, that's one reason... __ Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that You can, it just takes practice. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

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[15 Minutes of Fame]

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2024 15:28

It smells like dill in here At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse. Aha. Youre Hellen. Keller or Mirin How would you be Hellen Miren Cause I'm the Queen. posh. You want to die Well, you better do it quick Better get your shit toggether, paint a l Bigger, better picture Bitter Betty gliching steady Just remember when you're ready Ever steady still forgetting dinner Dessert was already Forget this significance Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere Had no other options but to go under for something Shy, sickness it's a secret Just kill me already Semi robotic, Something like a magnet, attracted, Simply symphonies And soulless bodies, tied to money Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning What did you suck up, dude Who do you suck up to. When nobody loves you But your own son And the audience is robots Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic Sit and do nothing would you Like you're supposed to Fall over like the mannequin you are Just a body in my count A mattress without a bespost, if it matters If it matters Doesn't really matter But hey, you know We all go downtown every once or twice a note For Hanukkah I could try to be nice But there's no sense in it, Is there If everything and everyone else is just as nasty As the rest of it Just is just a test, again A doctors office visit. Simple robotics, Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood Where's your homeland deposit box Closet full of robots Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery, Damages, damages, All with the Amazon packages, Now we're all robots, Aren't we What corporation to you belong to! Something corporate , or say anything Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us With m robots with thought processes, If once such could project as such presence As an AI freestyle Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts, Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me When all I wanted is Somebody to love me And someone to love him, If that's what he wanted (But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him) I don't belong on this planet I belong in the garbage Put me on mars, mom Stop it, You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral With your mental illness Geez, I must really want a menorah This is the animal house There's no one alive here Set to be slaughters. Honor the box of offerings as Thoughtful words And parallels What could be under your tongue Is the surface of love Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails You have left in your axis Nobody knows better than this How close it is to touching Without being loved But nobody loves you Psychotron, sure we're all robots now Nobody loves anymore {Previously, On…} L E G E N D S The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū {Enter The Multiverse} Ascension What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, When March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone relieve her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the God of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never die) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever youre spending If money the God, l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new higs boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, “all lives.” Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know, l. It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on [have a seat] Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous) Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Center Lmfao I need this word hold on “eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously” [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to ‘run far, And bring back The life that I want' I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {Coming Up…} INT. THE JUMPING POINT POINT POP-UP NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE & BAR. NIGHT “A Long Day's Night” / “A Hard Day's Night”

god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust ai power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs fall anxiety dj home writing simple er holy guns south satan funny night forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run dark beyonce motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash bar gotta heads tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic writers wondering butterflies supply bitch scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation closet copyright keller realize fix john lennon repeat nah buried shut up permanent semi lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper brotherhood alec baldwin hatred remind urgent hanukkah lexington aha cc i love mister whoopi goldberg coming up curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory trader joe walked marked complications ur keep up rubber irony hm rooftop bob saget mischief kg shabbat idk reminding rue skrillex polite mmm babysitting closest damages social studies fix it no love hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you shy goddamn hard days fairbanks printed swallowed sunni cyclones atop geez skr lmfao antenna shhhh jeez thoth long day ohh daisies hah slattery tryna aww new york city department celibate fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman sunn god for noh idlewild minutes of fame cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan satan jesus yaw hallmark cards stay dead cellophane palpitations god so rockefeller plaza goddamnit scatterbrained get in the van ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

Masters of Rap Tapes, Part II: PERCEPTION. (Freestyle)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 2, 2024 36:13

What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovera to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, Whe March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—beffldled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on somehh th int, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delisuins of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeker to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Of into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone reliever her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the Gid of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never due) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever your spending If money the God,l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new hits boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Holdberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, all lives. Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5 bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know l It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on have a seat Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Cente Lmfao I need this word hold on eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to run far, And bring back The life that I want I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs anxiety dj home writing masters er holy guns south satan funny forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run dark beyonce motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash gotta heads perception tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic writers wondering butterflies supply bitch scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation copyright realize fix john lennon repeat nah buried shut up freestyle permanent lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper brotherhood alec baldwin hatred urgent tapes lexington aha cc i love mister curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory trader joe walked marked complications ur keep up rubber irony hm rooftop bob saget mischief kg shabbat idk reminding rue skrillex polite mmm babysitting social studies fix it no love hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you goddamn fairbanks printed swallowed sunni cyclones atop skr lmfao antenna shhhh jeez thoth ohh daisies hah tryna aww new york city department celibate fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman sunn noh god for idlewild cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan satan jesus yaw hallmark cards gid stay dead cellophane palpitations god so rockefeller plaza goddamnit scatterbrained get in the van ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

Masters or Rap Tapes, Part Ii: PERCEPTION. (Freestyle)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 2, 2024 36:13

What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovera to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, Whe March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—beffldled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on somehh th int, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delisuins of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeker to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Of into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone reliever her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the Gid of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never due) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever your spending If money the God,l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new hits boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Holdberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, all lives. Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5 bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know l It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on have a seat Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Cente Lmfao I need this word hold on eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to run far, And bring back The life that I want I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs anxiety dj home writing masters er holy guns south satan funny forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run dark beyonce motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash gotta heads perception tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic writers wondering butterflies supply bitch scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation copyright realize fix john lennon repeat nah buried shut up freestyle permanent lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper brotherhood alec baldwin hatred urgent tapes lexington aha cc i love mister curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory trader joe walked marked complications ur keep up rubber irony hm rooftop bob saget mischief kg shabbat idk reminding rue skrillex polite mmm babysitting social studies fix it no love hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you goddamn fairbanks printed swallowed sunni cyclones atop skr lmfao antenna shhhh jeez thoth ohh daisies hah tryna aww new york city department celibate fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman sunn noh god for idlewild cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan satan jesus yaw hallmark cards gid stay dead cellophane palpitations god so rockefeller plaza goddamnit scatterbrained get in the van ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

Masters of Rap Tapes, Part II: PERCEPTION. (Freestyle)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 2, 2024 36:13

What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck does that got to do with me. We'll see. Okay, great, Now finish that chapter. What fucking chapter?! All of it. That's—a lot. I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow. “By” your desk?! Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk— …but it's…like 9 o clock. Should be easy, given your natural talents. What natural talents. PEACOCK. AHAHAHAHA. Okay. Well. Well what. This sucks. I lost all my coins. Hey. Ugh. You dropped this. So how was Los Angeles. What the fuck. You fucking DICK. I told you, I own shares in this. So what's the plan for this, exactly. I dunno, Harry. I got a book of stamps, And a yellow envelope marked “Jimmy Fallon” I will hate you forever. Well, that's retarded. I haven't even smited you yet. I will annihilate you, human. WHERE'S MY SHIT. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Nobody! No one. No one cares about this series, yo. I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman. What is this stuff. It's your stuff. This is not what I ordered— Hey— Why is it BLUE Cause it is. So. WHY IN THE— Mischief managed. Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning; I thought your parents owned this place. It's a time share! So? So it's like only —part of the time. That is stupid. No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess. It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up! Whatever! Stop trippin. Nobody's “tripping.” That's it. I'll be a stripper. Straight outta hell, that kid. Don't I know it. Alright, fine. I said, whatever you do— DONT watch this show. Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs Sounds like a threat. Put on a lawsuit, then. Maybe I oughtta… —with a bow tie. You'll look so pretty. I thought I was already pretty. Uh huh. Yeah, look, so honestly I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like, Jimmy Fallon and them, ok? I don't know how I did it; I don't know what did it, It just happened and then— And then WHAT. It just—ended. Just like that. I'm not trying to offend anybody here. Just like that. Now, I ask: What are we going to do to sell you this dream? Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it. Sure, fine; Don't believe it— We're gonna make you live it. Who the hell us “we” anyway? Now you're speaking in my cadence— Don't flatter yourself I like it. Too late, I guess. So, you see We're building Power triangles And love squares Power triangles And love squares Don't let it scare you, There's love there Don't let it scare you, There's love there Never fear where love has dared To call you up there Corrupt file—no fair. Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor, I promise you; Nobody's ever ready For what has just happened here. WAKE UP, FUCKER. Ugh, I can't go through this again. So, I guess I'll have to erase, Or just secretly publish Everything I've ever written About my actual experience as a color, Just so that I can earn money As anything other than A slave— A maid, A housekeeper, A dog walker Or servitor So far under her, That I can't see far enough up to just Scratch the surface Her birthright: The entire network And mine, To sit under her, Wondering what the world would be like At the other end of the spectrum The word form of the White woman The wicked witch of all directions, In which I stand in; I'm at her mercy I've been abandoned before But this disservice, is, I'm afraid The best advice I can take is just To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred And shove it So here comes the nameless Face I love, Yet, The faceless God, Was Intoxicated, at best— Manipulation of the Mass Media I'm so Seriously jaded In this torture chamber In my corner office In this hall of racists, I claim, but if all is One in the same Then It's one in the same And I'm mainstream I'm famous If it's One in the same Then It's one in the same If it's One in the same Then I'm mainstream I'm so famous In a whole room full of humans I'm groomed to be useful for something, But what? It just hasn't come yet. I could sit down with a paper and pen, But I'm filling up all of my documents With hollandaise and God For what? It's just another song, or something Or something. It's just another — Goddamnit it, more coughs again. I told you not to watch this. Why do I taste pancakes? Maybe you're having a stroke again. Chyeah, a stroke of genius. I'll show you a stroke. Or don't. Well, there goes the captain. where is that scene, anyway? I don't know, I just wrote it. Great, she left the door open. She's got no furniture! It's a “dance floor” It's “the black box” she called it “the black box” Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff? “Fear stimulates my imagination” Pilot ASOT Fuck man, What is a woman to a man, And an androgynous genius to The industry, or anyone at all If all are foes ans frauds All else is toxic! I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back Feeling dead drunk, I just woke up again But never fell asleep What world am I in? The end of the Dream sequence The end of the energy keeping me between three things: My past, My future And these prequels, Sequels And seeing arrangements And She's going crazy But nobody quite understands That these demons are chasing me saying “You deserved those hands in your face” The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but I was too fat To find love again And still have something Wonderfully, undone And wrong with me Wrong with me enough to slam poetry So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are— In charge of whatever happens At the top of the rock; So I jumped off. I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done; No, that's dark, and karmic, you know— To go on like that; The confusions and refusal to accept that The album is called ChaosMagick, But the cover is more Urgent, A prose or a pawn of protection Against all the coughs And the reckless mismanagement The hands in my head And the eye on my scar And the lies on my heart So tell me, What happens When you're flying a kite with your heart, And it's broken? What happens to the kite , When you fly it with your heart And your art up in bundles— heartbroken, heartbroken So what come of Miss May, Come January? What come of Miss April By Next December what comes of the words I was saying For no one But everyone heard them And I've been gone Much longer than months, But still stocked up on all that I've wanted Or all that I got Or just, all that I love But got no undercovera to acknowledge no more How right I was Or how wrong I am What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around? what come now, around August, Whe March is long forgotten? What comes of the drugs, Of the come ups, and come downs What comes of the process When nothing is served But the surf has come up Somewhere And I just can't love enough To go there I want to go to there I want to be that girl I want to sit at the top of the rock Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails I want to Don't you know I just want to get back to Where I belong I'm so out of money and love That I want to be Under the train, When it's coming (Sometimes it's just the impulse that says “GO” Then the train starts to slow And my pain bubbles up into a numb, Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry You know? Or you don't Cause you're all just on your phones Scrolling Some black man stands over me, Reminding me of why I never trust the ones Who want me most, Or just assume, By color code, That I belong to them I'm sorry, I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this Your heart around my arms like this It's so wholesome I had other verses but forgot them They took away my movies for the curses And the hexes That they put on me I said don't. And the king said “Heads will roll” Cause, you know; I've got parts for all of them now, The ones I'd forgotten But come from the catacombs, Back from the conduit You know, This is awful I had another one, But lost it. The king?! Which one. Teas I! No, it wasn't, It was Gían's father, From further off Should I call John back? Which one? Turns out, I love all of them— Turns out, I've got all of them In my college I taught them all to be someone Becoming of acknowledgement With nombres most common Juan, in subcultures, but Beyond that (Or above them) It's John, Or just Jonathan, Watch the ones who drop the consanant; They're always so troublesome, But I took them all up As understudies, Social Studies and some theatrics, Joan of Ark said Two more moments (Two more weeks in) I could have a body worthy Of a Grammy award, but — Would I be a writer then? Probably not, hon— Writers are Off a bit. If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?! If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this Conflicted? Some of those old New York hallways Haven't been painted In ages Since they made them Don't make that face at me I only dropped my key once On the fourth floor —they're horrible, you know To us, The “brothers” know no love They are destruction, speaking Of this, I got a cold heart. Cold like the robber Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process Worthy enough I might love it like a husband We're re-evaluating your circumstances. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I've got friends at USPS What the fuck could that even account to. Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations. It's not that serious. It's not that serious. Of course it is! I'm up to my knees in investments! So?! I wade a waiste deep, Surely you can get by “Up to your knees” What exactly do you need? Money. And lots of it. I mean, from me. Money. Really? Leave me alone. I told you not to write this. You're a voice in my head; No, I'm the hand in your mailbox. What in the fuck do you believe in. I believe in everything! They said you were a genius; I didn't expect you to be —at the very least, lucid— *squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay? For what? Dinner. Maybe. We're still in the process of voting. She's crazy. We'd be crazy not to actually hire her. Her accounts are all practically open; We could just take it. Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands— There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed! Printed?! What?! You mean— She's published? Self-published. My, what a beautiful happenstance To have already had you And awakened atop mattresses Marked for my assassins hand— Polite, I lost you All of us, Atop the rock We stood and suffered Months beyond a montage, Undercover Love was lost, And all's uncertain The interception of God, At the cost of What terror and cutbacks Have caused us all What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number, And all that you wanted, The cock of the gun Was the sound that you wondered What was called , then ran off into wonder. How am I gonna make money And become an award winning songwriter Music producer And multidisciplinary artist, Without all the funding it takes to get noviced Without taking clothes off Wake up 10 years younger I'm suffering My stomach was a rubber band My stomach was a rubber band My only song was Water I forgot to stop For the applause I drowned in all the love; right then and there I died of Lovenessness [The Festival Project] The sound and laughter of children play A baby in a basket The basket case at Trader Joe's Who know what happens It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer That my son belongs without his mother So I'd better have another This is us, come on. Don't do this to me. Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry. Come on! We're not even in that movie! We are, though; it's still Listen, you've got the right guy for this. Are you sure. Yeah, I promise. Officers, Stop for a *movement [hot cops flash dance number] Fuck, well, that was all wrong. But worth it! What I meant was— God, this show gets good at 31, But I'm only 22, So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was Once we've lost it, Cause imm a man now The episode is over, Soon comes the next episode With snoop dogg, Or not That was our wedding album. Scatterbrained, and pregnant— There she was just putting all the things together That she needed to be Needed To be needed. There she was, All on 4/20 Trying not to do the wrong thing, But what was it? To be loved. Then, There she was at 21 just going off again At some event— A friend, and her Back then could not imagine They'd become him To be someone. Not as one, But of entirely another World apart, aside from Cyclones into snow cones Turns the watchers into artists All their own, And off my own accord Or own account Or done with boredom Dove soap Open doors And clocks that turn the other hand away, Each day you love Manhattan But can't have that. That's it— This is just Season 1 of Mad Men WHERE THE FUCK IS— [she throws her hands above her head in surrender] I don't KNOW! Oh, you're a girl now?! I guess! What's with those pants, then? To hide the assets! What assets?! You look tragic. I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet Who said you get the red carpet? Manhattan. That guy lies! Well how about this: The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble All in my honor. 1000/1 You're our God, now. What! I don't want to be God! SUCK IT UP. YOU WON. I don't wanna! Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award! All the awards! Speech! Speech! SUNNI BLŪ Uh—- I'm drunk, And there's nothing on the teleprompter [a man in the audience coughs] A-HEM. [Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man] [multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died] TAYLOR SWIFT (unmoved at all) SUNNÏ BLŪ I don't know why you're laughing. That was awful. That guy died [audience is insane, super fake as usual] [more cut takes] SUNNÏ BLŪ It should have been you, Taylor. TAYLOR SWIFT (Still unaffected) SUNNI BLU Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy… Cause I am the academy [Audience is celebrities being celebrities] SUNNI BLU You guys are all idiots: I'm a go f*ck myself— And anyone else who wants to show up At my afterparty. Whatever. Peace. [cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.] Who's the host? Whatever. Hey, better than nothin. You're telling me. yeah. I know: Oh, she's a comic? Yeah. I got it. BOB SAGET Ooh, that's good. Ū No—no my God. No Bob Saget, stop it! Wait, Bob Saget is dead right? Last I recall: Fuck—FUCK! Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Okay, Rue— you're up. Rue, what in the— Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here! Oh, wait— It's me, Blanche. That's hot. I'm a debutant. My god, you're so young. Here, take this, What's that, You'll need that. V.O. I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget. *haunted. No, hunted! There she is! Grab her! Ooh, Bob Saget. Why, yes. How old are you? Not dead yet! You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir. Really? Yes. GET IN THE— NOH, GET IN THE VAN. INT. IN THE VAN. [a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van] Oh. Okay. Wow. That was easy. What is it, Friday. It's Friday and a half. Friday.5 What. There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2 So I guess this is season 8.5 I guess this is season 8.5 HEY, GET BACK HERE. What is this. It's your lunch. I don't want this. Well, okay. What— is this strange music— They call it dubstep Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing Probably Skrillex Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite Is coming up next, on Legends Come on Jim, KEEP UP. Nobody can know about this, okay? Wait, where's Kimmel Okay, I got O'Brien— Black Irish Bastard… Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but LEMON, Fuck. That's l—future me. What?! I gotta go, okay?! What? Go where. Let's get DRUNK. No, That's—I got a show tonight What?! Look at my lexicon. Your—what, Meet me on Lexington. Oh, this pussy is finished! I got it, I got it! He's LENNONNNNN!! JOHN LENNON Fuck. Look, I gotta go. John Lennon?! You're dead! Funny, I thought not. Watch this. MOOOOOOOOOOOM. Fuck, What, It's my kid. I gotta go. Wait, you have kids?! Well, I just had you, didn't I? “The mayor” is a secret underground rap star lol #trappin Okay, What's else happened Idk hold on Okay, So whats the sauce on this sandwich. Oh. Jeez, this again. That *sandwhich? Hah. There's no sauce on that sandwhich. —there's not!? No: You see. It's very simple. WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR. we gotta take the train. The train?! NO. NOTTHETRAIN. NO. Man, fuck the train! [SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.] What's this, the train? [is the train] (Angrily, tossing newspaper) Man, FUCK the train! Other hobo: Aww, thanks, I need that for my— [s/he snatches back the paper]. Wait! I need that back—what day is it? [drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew] GODDAMMIT, it's Shabbat; I gotta get to Temple. [s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap] Here. Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget RABI FUCK _]€_# WHAT WAS IT GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER. God So it was… What did you do with it? Do with what My idea what idea My—my rabbi joke— What rabbi joke you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me. Oh, did I? YES, SATAN, JESUS. GOD Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one. NO— it was— It was much better than that, it was— It was funny. Oh, it was? YES. —did you write it down? Fuck, I realize I just opened a A FUCK PORTAL. OHH, GET IN IT, GET INSIDE. I had an Artemis in my pocket But I lost him Walked away from the cornermarker And the cornerstone, for the sunset I wonder if songs always come When I'm walking, Or God makes us promises, For world of I'm not JB, I'm KG, Can you see me now? If you could see what I see, We'd be even wtf did I just write this And not realize I just wrote this Yeah. That shit happens to me all the time. WHAT. ALL THE TKMEx Shut up, THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense. What in the FUCK is that. *flutes* Ohh. And KITES. yyyyyYYYYYYYAAAAAHHH—— GODDAMMIT. I can't see really, I just dream I'm not thinking, I'm dancing This is what you asked for Exactly what you asked for For once, I'm finally glad I have your eyes on My friend I can see you all on the horizon, Singing NO, NO MORE MUSICALS!! Jimmy, what did you do?! I don't know what I did! You lyin bastard. I'm not lying! So, where ya from? —I don't know where I'm from. Listen, I'm gonna need you SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. It seems like these scenes are getting shorter. I'm bored with this. Ok. Let's do something else. I fuckin hate you. I hate you. I fuckin hate you. 88. Oh no: 8 Wait, what the— *dolphin* WOAH, okay: Oh, no. No, No, no OHNONO. I told you I'd find him. Anyway. Seems like there's something more important I should be doing. Are you sure this is the right place. Right place. Right time. Fuck— FUCK. What, what happened. I lost my— SKRILLEX! No. SKRILLEX. NO, NO— SKR— I swear to God, Google knows everything. Google don't know shit about SHIT. I gotta lose m 39 lbs. For what. MADONNA DO IT FOR THE BANANAS. I hate— you. COME ON, MISTER. Fuck off, Madonna, I'M A GOD. I miss Beyoncé. That's not relevant. Beyoncé is relevant to everything. *smacks* QUIT FANGIRLING. Trust me, I hate you. I don't trust you, but I believe you. I got it. I hate this place. Holy shit. What. I developed a new phobia. What's that mean?! I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something. For what. SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED. I see you looking over my shoulder I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em. I spent six months in a coffin, you know I spent my life a sarcophagus (Wow, I got it right.) Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital Try to recover from trauma Uncovered post traumatics, Anxiety attacks and a lot of those— What do you call them? A flashback. Here goes one: SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears. I told you not to— But I did! I didn't mean to! But you did! This is ludachris! Oh look, it's— Fuck. God dammit. Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?! I'll think abo it it. Are you serious? Another shapeshifter? Yes, I guess welll just have to kill them all, then. I just want to go home. You don't have one. …oh. So here we have. Okay, wait a second. I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually. My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly— It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days; The coughing—. Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it, Champion sportswear. I fucking hate champion sportswear. But the palpitations were real as ever— and now— On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room, There they were again. Only this time I knew exactly why. ‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method. Irony. It was ironic, but still startling, Started with some nostalgic traumas, Every other time I saw an ER doctor (Why I don't go) Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times. That fucking sucks. Did you say you were a doctor? I was, once. When is “once” At some point. Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this. I'm innocent, I promise! We caught you at 27 different angles doing this. Oh. [beat] I plead the 5th. Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite. c R A Y On Oh, I get it, I L L U M I N A T U S. Nice, it worked. I know everything about you. So you do. [beat] You're a God. What the fuck do you want from me. Listen. I. Am not. A God, Right. That's exactly what a God would say. No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything! AHA. Don't ‘AHA' ME. I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back It don't matter to me, now Now and again I go crazy just making arrangements, But besides that, If you like it, you should have it It's a long road, As Kaskade says, And a short dance, With the right one And time goes by I would call it mild, But actually I'm in a wild panic It might be a heart attack I just might even Die right here But I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me I don't mind—at all It don't matter to me, I said I don't mind, at all, now It really don't matter to me I said, I don't mind, at all It really don't matter to anyone Now does it (Not it doesn') I don't mind, at all It don't matter— to me I don't mind, at all It don't matter—to me Might as well not think about it The space between us Might as well just stay awake then No sense in leaving Just to come back Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit Preacher, please don't make me a culprit I been prayin— I been paying my tithes, 10% Even, Now 25, Almost half of me is not mine! Why try? I've been walking out, in straight lines I been crying silently It ain't right I been making most of my nights Sometimes I see sun come up twice Up, down up 10 degrees, It ain't right Up down up 33, it ain't right Up, down, up I've been spending my time Down, up, down Riding round, Trying not to down in my mind Up, down up What is this. It's my project. What is it? The Festival Project. Yeah but—what— What. Is it? …it's my project. *painfully infuriated* Okay, enter here. EXAM ROOM 10 Why exam room 10? Because. Where are the other nine? Just—get in. I'm not going in there! JUST GET IN. UGH. DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room) What is this, This is deadmau5. I know that. —-!!! —?!? What. !!! What? This is the exam? Yes! NO. What is “no”. I'm not playing for deadmau5. That's the exam. Then I fail! Automatic Fail? yes. Automatic fail. Then you win. What. *slams gavel* Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ. WhY. . What. Woohoo! I just retired! DEADMAU5 exits. … … After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken. Ugh. Fuck this. No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ. What. No! Yes. The answer is yes. NO. Fuck. What the FUCK. No matter what you do. You want to go, Go, you want to die, Die, you want to try, try You want to cry, cry Do what you want; As so will I, Demand is demand— Supply is supply. EDX So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck. Uh huh. And it led to a door— Uhhuh, where'd the door lead? To a portal. Woah. Pasqualle! You made it! I—yes. Congratulations! *blows party horn* *Daisies/ confetti* You're like 25! I'll be 25 forever. Nice! Yeah. I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless. ‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—beffldled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on somehh th int, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious. ‘Yes, you are—precious.' Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought. ‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.' —perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex. Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted. Mmm. Birthday cake. Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delisuins of love. ‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeker to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't. The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer. Of into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others. She's the most beautiful girl, And I'm the most beautiful boy; So naturally, we belong together, don't we? I see a pretty picture, Picket fences and a family Golden Retrievers Someone reliever her; She doesn't believe me TV dreams and exquisite pretty people Burning candles, fire flames and frequent figures, Guest characters and cameos, Repeat offenders, multiple appearances Suddenly, really, it's another need People, people pleasers Audience affection, Tragic endings, Butterflies and new beginnings Gun under my tongue, Rubber like a frog My mind is in a fog Haven't bothered going on a walk To Trader Joe's but The anthem of my youth, A lost soul Another form of my love So what I wonder Put the gun up under my chin Rubber like a frog Blow my head off Just cause I didn't blow up Selfish cunt Big brother, Another hypnotist Little brother, Gotta love him Gotta love em For the Love of God I could stop for a moment Wash my mind out with soap Like I'm ten years younger, even Seriously 20 years between us, You can't even hide underwater In a bathtub Seriously, Someone help us For the love of God, for the love of Hollywood Seriously, Someone love us, For the love of God, For the love of Rockefeller Plaza Someone help us Another possible walk of stars A little shop of horrors Another whole story I get rid of my demons The hoes screamin I put semen in her Permanent like semen, Just keep dreamin I'mma just keep preaching SaMo, Brooklyn Europe Next I keep scheming Whoever you are; If you're a wreck— You need a check No respect, neglect Just cover your neck (I'm blind to my own design, sometimes) That's what the eye is Try this: Close your eyes and say thrice, kids I am the God of the eye, Osiris I am the Gid of the Eye, I'm Osiris I am the God, I walk amongst the highest Thoth, You lost Better just die and keep trying I am the God of the eye, I am (Try this) I am the God of the eye (I never due) I am the God of the eye (That's right, three times) I am the God of the eye No black and white television, In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal, The mission isn't in materialism, Whatever your spending If money the God,l of your eye, Realize, I am higher My gunfire, Is right on the back of The one dollar I am the God of the eye I Am Your money is nothin to us We come in peace, To end suffering Pretty little nigga Look just like Kendrick Kickin it with jigga I'm the new hits boson Part of me never left Boston (Fuck Starr!) Part of me never left homeless This ain't my home It's my office You never heard this song You don't notice I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me Rooftop smells like soy sauce On god I am ugly You don't notice -Atari the God Can we get back to this, please? Damn. She really whooped her ass, though. Janet, can I borrow you for a second? No. Please. [Whoopi Holdberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”] …alright. I got convictions on my lips, I took a picture Turn the page The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists— INSOMNIAC EVENTS Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists. WHITE SUPREMACISTS You really want it this way, don't you? No! I LOVE you! Oh, do you? If there's a mile in here, I swear to god.. Are you high enough yet? I thought so HIGHER! hire star* What. Just do it. You remember these guys, right? GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA No. Why are we back here. Alright, we might have fucked up. Why. This guy sucks. HEY. What. COME BACK TO ALASKA never that. WHAT, WHY NOT! GOD HATES FAGS!!! Well, you're wrong! WHITE POWER. Nah. ALL LIVES MATTER O rly? Even this guy? Literally every “NO” …so, all lives. Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library. GO TO THE LIVRARY. NO. GET IN HERE. NO AUBREY. STAY DEAD. She's dead, right? YOU CALLED ME HERE. I didn't! You Did. I did not, all i said was *swoons* …I love her. (I really do) WHAT?! “I Love you?!” It was more the *swoon* that did it. Disconnect. Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again What'd you do to him? Nothing! Put him back! He's still there! He's right there, you see him? No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5 bring him BACK. Fuck, I fucked up. What'd you do? …nothing? Pick up the phone Pick up the phone …hello? Who IS this? Fuck it, I quit. Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever. I told you, I don't live here, I'm just… Babysitting. CC! What! CC! What? CC WHAT. Fuck, man. That was wild. Where the fuck have you been? I don't know. You don't know—you smell funny. “Funny” is that what that smell is? No. When were you? When? Ha. Did you—- Did I what? —did you go to a party without me? Lmfao fuck these niggaz. Why, what happened. What's this. Where was it?! Idlewild. “IdLeWiLd”?!?!? You. Old. One here and die, you know l It's cattle call for curtain calls guy Where did this go— What was this, once? It's the return Welcome to Oz This is the Tower of Babel Remember; I wrote that Better than the bottom, Still not the top —it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up Did you jump yet Come around more Keep coughing Are you sure this is where it was or—? Somewhere else I stayed Back when I was homeless It's hopeless! We lost her Antenna, antenna SUPERMARKET I loved her —she was undercover —I'm still in your stirrups I'm lost in New York, then BACKFIRE Adele remix is on have a seat Can I go now? I still need a hat, a half dollar and an alter cloth You could win an award for this; I don't want an award, I just want my son back Motherhood, motherhood Brotherhood, brotherhood This isn't one of us! No one was No one was Can I go now? Where to? Home! Nope, that's just the office, I'm still homeless, unless I They got cabanas on top of offices! (The rich and the famous Networking and brunches— _this looks fun, doesn't it? I altered the course of history In brief exchanges and Various social atrocities This is hypocrisy! lol rly This is hypocrisy!! Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations… You realize the more low quality people you let in The more low quality this country becomes, don't you? I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones. Used to be cast more, Now something seldom ever happens Such as this— A fun Fortune 500 What does that even mean Forbes. Look it up. What if the policy is Foreign; Look it up. I know enough about the girl next door to know Something is horrible, Something inside of her Rots at the core, Her obsession; My undeservedness of such, What she must, I mustn't, just Unjustice Broski, okay I got to discard All the pichardo Besides just this one (I'm standing on top of you) Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor Worse off, I was done for Before I got to New York What's her for?! I know enough about the man upstairs to know All these glares and “How dare you's” and Hatred says Why would you wait 30 years Until today, I guess Something is certainly off about her. I said yes. It was more probably something like “SUCK MY DICK” What. “YOU HEARD ME” Oh yes, I did. From 1990 to 1993 From 1990 To 1993 From 1990 To 1993 Stop breeding these things, “Love is familiarity” No Love is what you make it But you can't Because of slavery They don't make music —they don't make love either Well, look where your lust took you! Nowhere! Exactly! Look where your love took you: Vegas, Los Angeles, South of the Border Above it a New Yorker— Under budget, Celibate and My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle, Meanwhile My ex husband left permanent scars on My face My lips My arms My hands And my heart. Did you bite him? Of course I bit him, he was strangling me. You definitely won this fight. I know. Look, if I don't call for security, This bitch is gonna make me kill her. OCTOPUSSY NO. What. NO. Stankass. I will KILL this bitch. Look, I gotta get ahead in this. I need a WIN. These are customs. Trash. Wash your pussy. Send her back. Nah, you know what. Remove that hex. Wait, what, really?! Yeah, like; Reverse it. Woah. That's crazy. They got like….white slaves now. That's not right. What do you mean. That's not it. You said “reverse it” This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else: [world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't] BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA I AM OFFENDED I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but— Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?! Uh…. Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men— Or women. Right. Idk. Wait, I do. You do?! Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group… Run the same businesses— Have the same families. This is disgusting Okay, this is gross That's not right ! That's not my job! Oh, it's not!!? NO. Who should I call That guy. So you want this? Oh, it's a death curse?! It will NEVER end. Wanna bet. I'll kill you and take the whole world with me. Now that's a threat. Thing is, I'm actually making it. I'm telling on you! Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid. Ok. 30 YEARS. Doesn't make sense. What's the statute of limitations for— Hm. Depends. Depends on what. Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?! NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEN WHY DO I? wtf is this? This is Texas being petty. Ok, fuck ya‘lol YAW. I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you. Something. What. Fix me. Fix you. Hm. Ok. *COUGHING* Somethings wrong here. Yep, it's definitely some kind of FIX IT. Where's this ROCK? At the ROCK. Like, where tho?! Ur gonna need this. What. They r crucifying u. Noted. Hunts Point Food Distribution Cente Lmfao I need this word hold on eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously [ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.] A win. I don't play dead. What do you call this: DIE! DIE, BITCH! Corrections. I still don't understand how this— ACID HAPPENS. Out of sight Out of mind So why these guys Tryna waste my time Tryna fuck with my mind with All these lights OH MY GOD I ain't got time for that Well, Maybe I do— I just Don't like NIGGAZ LIKE YOU. (Say what) I don't like Niggaz like U! I'm Sunnï Blū! You're stupid Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too? Ok. Cool. When all my aliases come up This dumb motherfucking drunk Is gonna get stuck In his own woods He'll bury himself In the words that he left With the scars In the words that he left With the scars Sunni blu Is the sayer of stars I slaughtered them all Swallowed them whole Like a big black hole I'm a big black god I'm a big black God Fuck Twinkle that broad One punch girl One punch girl 5 punch faggot I'll unwrap flags on your Goddamn Fuck that Put a curse on my alter ego Lucky he's a he, tho I blow holes in em I blow smoke And love sausage I'm a hedon And he not a Hero He broke He lost I'm open Shirts vs skins I got 666 Curses to show you What your words did IM RA I'm a big black God You're at home with the young apostle Let's be honest He never even liked his father So turned him to a mother, Told his mother to run far, And bring back The life that I want I'm a big black God In light skinned clothing You don't know to explode Or explode on me Cause my mommy's a Dark skinned icon That my God Find something to pass the time, God Sunni with I, huh I won Fuck a pedophile wifebeater Bury him in the woods with his fury Fear me, now I'm coming up with reverse curses And cures Cause my words Bought the whole world Buried you in the woods I'll bury you in the woods, Bitch Very good I'm a big black God -Blū. GOD is the GOAT I just became god I do what I want I get what I want when I want it I don't want no problems Me myself and God only I buy everything I used to steal These tears in my heart say I'm healing What's the difference, anyway? I've never been fit for your interests, or industry Add insult to injury Add everything to my Amazon cart, then My sympathies Nothing is greater in heaven As it is in hell, for this industry Turned on its head And turned over from 7 to ten Check your messages, then Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you You're not included in the package Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN. HA. Classic. GOT EM. V.O. I met her at The Jumping Point {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god tv love jesus christ music new york amazon fear texas money health trust power google peace man los angeles rock las vegas dogs anxiety dj home writing masters er holy guns south satan funny forbes fortune taylor swift academy grammy started champion temple cold run dark beyonce motherhood networking manhattan straight speech queens dinner worse burning worthy shit audience trash gotta heads perception tower drunk new yorker jamaica fuck riding congratulations remove reverse blow classic writers wondering butterflies supply bitch scratch wash foreign shut younger peacock bought selfish manipulation copyright realize fix john lennon repeat nah buried shut up freestyle permanent lemon jimmy kimmel tragic hyper brotherhood alec baldwin hatred urgent tapes lexington aha cc i love mister curses shirts artemis atari corrupt officers jimmy fallon corrections bury disconnect automatic int jb advisory trader joe walked marked complications ur keep up rubber irony hm rooftop bob saget mischief kg shabbat idk reminding rue skrillex polite mmm babysitting social studies fix it no love hem samo dammit deadmau5 who are you goddamn fairbanks printed swallowed sunni cyclones atop skr lmfao antenna shhhh jeez thoth ohh daisies hah tryna aww new york city department celibate fuckers suck it up god can rots picket white power jesse pinkman sunn noh god for idlewild cerulean health commissioner god find dexter morgan satan jesus yaw hallmark cards gid stay dead cellophane palpitations god so rockefeller plaza goddamnit scatterbrained get in the van ashwin vasan sonny moore god hates fags slatts

01. OXYGEN. (Instrumental)

Play Episode Listen Later May 26, 2024 2:05

Track 01. OXYGEN Music VIdeo: The Leveling Up from Hotel Concierge to Superstar Sensation I'mma just like– Take one of those luggage carts and prolly dance with it, Like i used to. That shit is not gonna work. You were like It'll work. You were like mad fat, back then. SO. So it; luggage carts shouldn't spin like that; They don't just move like that. It's just centrifugal force. Watch. Alright, if you say so. Watch. Lol Runaway luggage cart. Fine. That's the video. All ya'll bitches gossiping I just can't do nothing right I should put some vocals in Channel surf from side to side I just got another job Concierge from 9-5 I just need some oxygen Channel surf side to side I get paid to go to work This shit hurts from 9-5 This shit hurts from 9-5 I just got another job— Concierge from 9-5 I get paid to go to work This shit hurt from Out of sight and out of mind; You are nothing but a problem I'm a prophet I'm a God Channel surf and then I prosper You just talk and gossip Photoshop and scrolling on your socials Mind my business, do my job, but On those eggshells I am walkin I get paid to go to work Paperwork from 9-5 I just need some oxygen -channel surf from 9-5 I been making profit Turning hours into dollars Went no drama I'm on oxygen While all you do is gossip You just clocked in— but my shift is fucking over Peace! All y'all bitches gossiping I m in another life Making money count it up Paperwork from 9-5 I just need some oxygen I just can't do nothin right I just need some oxygen Channel surf from side to side All ya'll bitches gossipin, I am not about that life! Now I'm doing vocals in the studio From 9-5 Package came from Amazon Guess I'm doing something right Now I'm in the studio, MTV from 9-5 Mind my business, do my job My shift done, but, You just clocked in K no non N—- Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO [Tales of a Superstar DJ] Six hours should have been enough sleep, but now I was feeling strange, almost as if I had woken up into a world where I didn't belong—not that I had ever felt I belonged anywhere before so much, but this world seemed strange and twisted, I woke up in a cold sweat, and although I had been struggling with a full bladder for sometime, at least semi- conscious enough to point my foot in the direction of the door, still dressed—or rather, almost dressed— well, dressed, by skinny girl standards, in shorts I wore as underwear, but smaller girls would wear for running, the only acceptable crop top I ever owned, a white top with black Chinese dragons, and athletic compression socks—best yet, I still had on my DJ hat, and things had been so outrageous lately that I always felt like I needed some kind of head covering, anyway—it was atrang how suddenly I noticed the difference with and without, but lately anyway had been sleeping strangely, usually dressed and atop the bed, rather than in it, or under the covers. I had been working tirelessly towards my albums, and had just finished an EP—well( the instrumentals; anyway, and had gone to bed in the early evening frustrated that suddenly, my microphone seemed not to be working—and though I often struggled with the interface, it had simply just stopped picking up audio, though I had been successful in at least doing the preliminary tracks, (before breaking to workout) after a mandatory rest and some obligatory indulgence—I always ate more than usual when producing heavily, or producing at all, at least music which was more complex, than just a simple beat or some kind of improvised work; If it was intentional at all that I should focus on music, I was always overeating—but, I had become quite small, running at least a mile a day for some time, and didn't nessesarily find the extra weight too bothersome… though I loved being skinny— and it became oddly difficult to sing and dance well when I was smaller, almost like I was living in a different body at that weight— like I was detached from myself and my voice, and also strangely, the ability to dance as fantastically as I wish I could ever do while recording myself or being recorded came with a couple extra pounds and some limited indulgence—very limited… —But, I did like being skinny. I awoke in a cold sweat, the lights still on—the dream hadn't altogether been a disaster or a nightmare, but strange enough to wake me, and vivid enough that I had become lucid, that talking to and looking at Dillon had made me realize I should wake up, especially given what he was saying and doing—in short, he was being a douchebag, which I nearly always expected of him, anyway, but somehow, within the dream, still felt close enough to him that I wasn't upset. Somehow, though, I had let him go entirely in the waking world, at all, actually—almost never even writing about him anymore, giving myself the time to grow and the space I needed to shake off whatever had been such a weird curse that had even lead me to think we could be an item; now, in the waking world, I was grounded in reality—I no longer fawned after celebrities really, although average men never piqued my interest or fancy at all—actually, no man in any way was quite piquing my interest indeed, and I had even stopped masturbating, after a particularly strong orgasm which had emerged from what seemed like a random vision of Sonny, not soon before that, maybe a week or so ago at best—and what had come thereafter had squashed any kind of sexuality I might have pondered or summoned up—the coughing people instantly returned after that orgasm, as if it were a direct attack on my soul to even think of him in such a way, which had however been by complete accident, in the final moments before release— and I realized it was probably some kind of magical protection, or hex from coughs, who might still, or in some girlish way be in love with him—Perhaps, even his own magical shield—and I could not anymore give my ex the power or ability to have maneuvered such a trick, that an orgasm would bring about such cruelties… as I realized that there were almost always present, as well as the coughing people, women who were petite and pretty—the kind actually suited for Sonny, would appear in my midsts, having anywhere to go, or anything to do—petite, blonde haired, blue eyed women—or just, white women in general, almost seemingly out of nowhere—And, to remain that I stay unchanged from my lack of violence towards the matter, I had left any man that wasn't mine entirely alone, even in my mind, but especially in my heart and soul. I had let everything and everyone go—which included Dillon Francis, who's apparent relationship, though no sign of such in the actual media, I had decided to overall respect; I always respected the woman or wife of a man, especially those that I admired—especially those who I was extremely attracted to, and especially those of whom I became bonded in some way, through my writing or otherwise, completely by accident and never intentional—and to that, I had moved into entire celibacy… though, it began to be a painful knot in the bottom of my back and at my spine, in my hips and even in my kneecaps, especially the weak one—after an outing full of coughing bodies and petite looking girls, I had thought it best to never even think of Sonny again, and had locked my obsidian protection stone out of my presence entirely—I wished not to know or think of a man who knew no bounds, and relinquished his spirit, if not for my own safety. It had been months since dreaming about Dillon Francis at all, and perhaps I was just sexually frustrated, however the dream in itself wasn't sexual in nature—just, informative. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a pretty brunette on it—with blue eyes, of course, and clad in a bikini—which I told him was the most beautiful woman in the world—he agreed, and strangely was able to zoom in the picture on his shirt, as if it were some kind of screen, focusing on her bosom and saying something along the lines of “yep, she's all mine—and no portal [to the underworld]!”, and though he hadn't said the part about the underworld, I figured and sort of agreed that his suggestion was, that my vagina had some kind of curse on it—which was probably true, anyway, and the reason I never even masturbated anymore. I responded by telling him that I was happy he had someone, that I was happy he was in love and that that's what I had wanted, but suddenly became filled with sadness—it seemed I still did have feelings somewhere for him after all, though I was dreaming, and he began to torment me with the words that made me decide that I had to wake up to escape the horrid feelings that came along with them. He said “you know when I first met you I really wanted you; I just wanted you.” And in the insinuating that there might have ever been some kind of chance between us, if I had only done something different, though— during my time being homeless everything had become out of control, it angered me that he suggested that I could have worked harder or tried harder and things might have been different—they weren't, and I decided that though it had been good to see him, and it would be hard to wake up, that I needed to wake up now, before I could cry inside my own dream, lighting an incense in the dream world, and making the wish to exit the dream; I immediately did, returning into my room, alit with blue, at around the time I had intended to wake up to presume making music, which now seemed futile—suddenly I didn't want to even try, realizing it had less to do with Dillon Francis than it did with the world in general. in fact, upon waking, I thought to myself that no matter the situation, it had been a relief to see Dillon, who I thought of as a kind stranger, an imaginary friend now, who had guided me through rough waters with laughter and the pleasure of music—who in my waking life had fallen back into the category of just another famous person, with no delusion of a romance between one another, no matter how much I had wanted it once. I had left it alone, out of respect to his own conscious, and out of respect to myself—who had fangirled enough that I had become damaged from it, deciding ultimately to just ‘leave the men alone', and wondered what kind of monster I might have been that I really only was ever interested anymore in someone if they were not only handsome, but talented, intelligent, and also somewhat famous. The auras of even the most beautiful common man, even the classy, well dressed and assuming well-to-do men of Manhattan just didn't shine the way the others did—and I could never see myself shine in a way that would make me like them—famous—though I had been working hard on my music, dangerously hard, actually—so much that I feared my ex's Jealousy and intent to kill had plagued and cursed now my machinery—I just couldn't at all get my microphone or to work and had forced myself to sleep—it had been over 24 hours that I had been awake with the focus to work anyway, and I needed to rest, but was mere hours away from the completion of another project, and suddenly, the ability to record vocals has just stopped. Now, upon waking, I clutched my chest, drenched in sweat realizing that I had fallen asleep with some stones tucked into my bra, which I never did anymore as the stones and crystals had been enchanted with intentions, and had become quite strong, each of them on their own, but particularly together in the way that some of them even clashed, and that I could not carry them all, or just didn't, out of caution—I assumed the one over my heart to be the Amethyst, which I very specifically never ever slept with or even clutched anymore—the stone was strange, and had began to vibrate in a way that I was unsure of, and so with that I alluded it to the probability that because its intention had always been set to be given as a gift to Dillon, no matter the stuatus of our actual relationship to one another, that it in some way had been bonded to his energy—and with respect to the presumption that he was taken, of course by some pretty, very skinny, perfectly capable white girl—perfectly capable of being functional in all the ways I was not, by circumstances of privelege and wealth, probably extremely well cared for and perfect in every way—I respected the dynamics of white world, in that it made more sense for him to always love someone like her, if not just her forever—if he truly had fallen in love and planned to make this woman his wife, which I had wanted alon learning that he was with someone—the notion which would have freed me from his grip, a still quite devastating attraction— And it was devastating, The loop which was so simple and certainly evident now, that it was an inevitable lust and infatuation that had drawn me to the conclusion that you just can't want a man like that. You have no business falling in love with a man like Sonny Moore, Dillon Francis—or anyone alike them, in that it would all be the same, tragic, eye opening experience of uselessness, disappointment, and the constant reminder that because of who they are, and because of who you are, you would never, ever be good enough for them—and even in a professional setting, had a long way to go up the ladder before a collaboration with Skrillex, Dillon Francis, or deadmau5 would make any kind of literal sense, but especially monetary, I was simply not rich enough yet for the music industry—and I was certainly not woman enough for any of them. It wasn't the amethyst at all, I realized upon returning from the restroom, that had been inside my brazier as I slept, but The Illuminati Stone, which had no incantation besides the explicit desire for wealth, knowledge, and skill within my given right to exist outside of the “underworld”, “the blackness” or the plague of poverty—the amethyst, with my other musical incantations had been left atop my drum machine, as they usually always were, next to my drum sticks and whatever mess I had abandoned in the studio before falling asleep, and though now I was quite awake, smudging with sage to break the feeling of helplessness and bitter sadness, slight sexual frustration which I had fallen asleep with, and of course now waken up with, quich had nothing to do with Dillon, thankfully—and at the very least I knew better than to think of him in anyway on purpose at all—or any man in anyway on purpose at all—as it was concluded I just simply could not be loved at all, and that if there were any curse at all placed on me, it was with that purpose—that I would never love or be loved again. I never slept with all my stones, but now I wanted to; I should have been working on music, but wasn't even moderately moved to do so—it was like I had lost the desire, and reminded me that perhaps my ex had become Dillon Francis after all, just to torture me, just as he had seemed to turn into Sonny before. Perhaps he would just turn into anyone I loved just to try to kill me kn the way that j could never be without him, no matter how much I wanted to, and would always have to suffer being reminded of him, his habits, and the horrible things he used to do to me; and for some reason, the scar on the inside of my lip, where my teeth had punctured entirely through from one side to the other, began to swell and throb, which almost never happened, but sometimes did, especially when k was upset or had flashbacks of the initial beating which had left me wounded in many more ways than i could ever count or imagine, but especially damaged—he had ruined my face that day, and suddenly I remembered it, the gash that had left it impossible to eat for sometimes, as even applesauce would sting, and stuck to the wound inside my mouth—and it was hard to imagine how I ever recovered from that.::or maybe I hadn't. Either way, there had been a strong, male voice lately which had been tormenting me with especially masculine, toxic and invasive thoughts, a voice which reminded me of a man who called himself Big O, who had once ruined my day by offering me a ride,'picking me up at a bus stop in front of the shelter—whom I assumed was doing so out of the kindness of his heart, of course, but was either some fed doing intel on the bizzare was surrounding my imminitely divine and extra terrestrial podcast series, or just some strange man attempting to illicit sexual favors in exchange for drugs, which I politely declined, however, he had spent my time, which was supposed to be a direct ride from queens into Manhattan, driving in circles, running errands, and asking questions about me, my past, and my own habits—all of which had been extinguished, and though I just wanted to go to the gym, he had kept driving in circles around queens, even stopping at what seemed like some kind of doctors office, his office, where he said he had some mushrooms “just lying around” and would give me for free—which I never believed anyway, but went along with it—as the bus almost never came when scheduled and on time and I had been at the stop nearly too long; and he had hovered in front of me long enough to realize that he was trying to get my attention. I had nothing to lose in the shelter anyway, and had been making a point to spend as much time at equinox as possible—and was still somehow naive enough at this point to actually believe that someone would actually just do such a thing—give someone a ride out of the kindness of their heart. But I paid for that ride, in unwanted touches, coughing, and the reminder that there was some demonic force which only ever wanted to hurt me, drive around in circles, and waste my time, just as my ex had— that just wanted to blow smoke in my face and remind me that I wasn't a beautiful woman, but just a woman—and that there were so many other to choose from that I should be so lucky just to have been offered a ride. It was this voice that had been torturing me lately, calling me a horrible mother, an ugly fat woman—unworthy of success. It was this voice that had been burgeoning me with reminders of what I had been before, almost enough to overlook what I had become—and though it was with some stroke of genius that I had done all that I had, it didn't seem to matter without the actual success or wealth, or any money at all to show for it—and so far, there wasn't any: I was literally down to my last dollar, once again— unmarked, albeit, with such a formidable respect to Jimmy Fallon and his family, besides the strangeness that had been surrounding the inspiration to suddenly begin to write from his essence characters I had never known or thought of, but had suddenly somehow been brought to life— I was too broke now even to get business cards, and though I had invested into a beautiful studio, the struggles with my interface altered me to the fact that all of my equipment was becoming rapidly obsolete, and that alone gave me a limited ability to create, let alone to make quality music which was good enough to compete with the likes of even the lower ranks at Insomniac , but especially far from a signature label, like Epic or Columbia, which I needed more than wanted—a record deal; my living room was still empty, and the only furniture was my studio equipment, which was at least a comfortable and beautifully well lit space, with a cheap full sized mattress on the floor—but it was everything in the world to be grateful for, to have an unshared space—which might have been perfect a couple floors higher up and without the distraction of either of my neighbors, both white women who seemed to act in demonic ways at random times, but especially in times were I wanted to relax, or be at peace—and though for at least a week or so they had been particularly calm, and I had been putting in overtime with heavy prayer work in order to protect myself and be rid of such a demonic energy, a force which seemed to intend to kill me and used other people as it's way to find me—there was still this voice, who had taken the voice of big o, who I hated for not only touching me, but wasting my time—I had missed equinox that day after a streak, arriving hours after he had picked me up in Manhattan, his attempts to lure me into some kind of party girl state failed; he dropped me off at 66th, Columbus circle, for my “gig”; I wasn't letting him know my true destination for any reason, and unstead bluffed that I had been hired as a musician to preform at this address, which happened to be, without my knowing, the Trump hotel, It was his voice that called me a liar and a thief, a horrible mother, a fat, ugly useless woman. It was his voice that told me to get a “real” job, that was useless in music at all—that I could not compete with the little girls which the music industry had pumped out on pure sexual appeal, rather than talent—girls like Tyla, who I knew were planted and selected with financial backing to be “successful”, not on hard work or determination, but by the looks of it, some kind of sick game—the body game, which the whole world had become, and I had lost long before I had become aware of it. Though beautiful in its way, my body was broken, hard, and tired— I drifted in and out of an altered consciousness, knowing my time had come to do or die, but unlikely to try my hand at anything that might become what the regular workforce always was—a hellscape of more reminders of my ex, of Sonny, the petite women suited for him— reminded of a Dillon , and his super white girlfriend—and the overriding factor that I was supposed to be focusing fully on music; and shouldn't be working some dead end job at all— Fuck this. I thought, placing the amethyst on my inter thigh. Fuck music. There was no way to let music go, but the possibility of actual success was dwindling—anything I loved became evil, and in the shattering of doing everything alone, I just wanted it to be over. Maybe if he didn't want to be a parent alone and be constantly reminded of me, He shouldn't have cheated But especially shouldn't have beat me He certainly had no right to take the rest of my life away just because I had walked out of his—he had ruined my baby to look and sound just like him; to act like him, and though I couldn't ever hate my boy I would never love his father again, or any man like him. Or maybe, any man at all. What is a man, but that, anyway? Destroyers of worlds, wasters of times Vengeful, pitiful, needy creatures— And though I thought also that woman might be worse… The worst of all things was that I had become neither at all, And therefore devoid of the ability to love or be loved, in the world which had become nothing but money, bodies, and material consumption. Suicide reared its head in a different way than usual—not with the burning sensation of absolute pain and destruction, but instead with a calm intent to not attach, to not conform, to not bond to anything, which might prove in itself be just another illusion: It was nice seeing Dillon. It was strange that in all of the horrible feelings that had come from waking back into the nightmare of my own existence—a nightmare which was at least now pretty, and sheltered properly, but still miserably alone—and I neither wanted nor needed friends, really. Who could you trust in such a material world, to have your best interests at hand! Who could you trust in man's world, if not man itself. His body was tall and strong, and felt safe— But nothing was safe about Dillon Francis, or his world. Nothing is safe in a man's world. Aristide o I am the god, if you want it The devil if you need it To be that Another Dillon Francis dream I had fallen asleep just to again dream of Dillon Francis—perhaps I knew I wouldn't be seeing him in waking life again, and took my chances, attacking him as he slept peacefully, or at least laid down. I knew he had a girlfriend and didn't care; I had my way with him anyway, though not going al the way—his penis was very tiny, which made the blowjob all the more enjoyable—he ejaculated quickly, and I was satisfied—at least his penis was small enough that it wouldn't have brought me too much pleasure anyway. I was pretty happy about it, but he felt bad and kind of freaked out. I pretended nothing happened and we stayed friends—I think we worked together or something so we were still around each other a lot—he made it a point to suppose his girlfriend with a $67,000 engagement ring, which for whatever made me jealous. It didn't matter kept my own secret, but he still seemed kind of mad or disappointed in himself. Then I got a new man—he wasn't my ideal, but at least I had somebody. I laid with him on the beach and for some reason Dillon's girl was there—she was so pretty. This version of his girlfriend was blonde—but of course still had blue eyes. Duh. She seemed to know that I had made Dillon cheat on her as I looked into her eyes, but it didn't matter anyway. The past was the past, I guess. My new man didn't seem to matter. He was like a faceless body and insignificant, but something went down and we were to run away to a cabin in the woods somewhere to hide. What a weird fucking dude. I wondered why he had begun again to appear in my dreams—and it wasn't as if I'd forgotten about, at all, but just hadn't been thinking about him, almost not at all, actually: I wondered what a $67,000 engagement ring would look like and figured that might be the actual case, so to just leave him or anything to do with him alone—especially doing something retarded like googling or looking him up, which would only hurt me. I was nice to have a penis in my mouth though—I missed penis a lot…felt bad for kind of mouth taping him but whatever. I had fun. I woke up in the morning with all the energy I had lost from staying up trying to push out my project by 4/20 or 4/23, hoping that constantly being reminded of my abuser would stop, but it seemed he wanted me dead and to suffer with the memory of him forever; I had missed my deadline, not out of laziness, but because of the unsurmounting amount of bullshit which seemed to come between me being able to actually do anything right in music, and I thought surely soon enough the EDM industry would find their own Tyla, hiring some black looking girl to make—or at least play dubstep, pretending to make it— realness didn't seem to matter to anyone at all anymore— And my passion for music became jaded as my body and mind were, in the money that it would take to become noticed. Sure, of course, I would still try but probably not as hard — the whites —or rather just—the heads of the entertainment industry as a whole, but especially music, seemed to have enough interest in me that maybe it did matter, but I would have to be groomed for their world, who they obviously didn't want penetrated by too much blackness—which was understandable; race aside, or at least the black culture was hard to stand in many aspects—though of course, rap, as any other genre, had become so horrible that I knew my music would excel— It was insane that the music industry had ruined music enough that even new music from my favorite artists began to sound robotic—and it must have been that the audiences were so brainwashed themselves that it didn't matter to the festival world—everyone just wanted to party to escape the clutches of capitalism and corporate slavery, which made sense. Of all the days to dream about Dillon stupid fucking Francis, it's the day of the eclipse, and I wondered whether I should even waste my time starting up at the sky like everyone else in the world would be, or if I was just better off hiding away, keeping safe from the disgusting, coughing, robotic demon people—- and just working on music, fighting this invisible monster who wanted nothing but my defeat— However—the more it pushed me to excel in anything besides music-my writing, which came naturally but second, as even that world had been washed with nepotism and unoriginality that had been hard to palette—it would be even harder to make it as a writer, as white woman always dominated white works, and I could bear to stand the thought of bowing to her. Racism is simply a game of control—to make the other party understand that they are in some or any way inferior to another, genetically, peofessionally, or otherwise. Not only had I come now to entirely fear the white woman, the face of white dominance and supremacy by proxy—that the world had come to worship as the most capable, attractive, and worthy of love and success, especially in dance culture, but just in the media in totality, anyway, and certainly in any workplace I had ever known, which drew me back to the story which my now-late 3-track EP, a teaser for my upcoming album— a story which told of the days I spent my time working at the Eureka Casino Resort, as part time deal person, and part time concierge-which was actually a hubrif position betwrrnbellhop and housekeeper, the job at which I had discovered my all time guilty pleasure, Bad Girls club, on a network oxygen— a tv channel which played lol sorts of reality shows, but of course—happened to be usually playing Bad girls club during my shifts, which made the shitty job a little less shitty, and maybe even worth it a little, to finish my work as quickly as possible, and hide away in one of the resort's rooms, clever enough to choose a ro still marked as dirty-/but was clean enough to enjoy an episode or two of what some might have called trash TV, but presented itself as high quality entertainment, for a 21 year old would-be housewife—or, yet-to-be. Or would have been, if the money had permitted, but of course, it never did— or, it never had— At least—not yet. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

From First to Last "Dear Diary, My Teen Angst Has a Bodycount"

If You're Listening

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 25, 2024 59:55

We've heard from Mr. Sonny Moore pre-Skrillex before, but today we take it all the way back to the beginning as we listen to From First to Last's 2004 debut album, Dear Diary, My Teen Angst Has a Bodycount. Discover bonus eps, merch and more on our Patreon! This week: When remastering doesn't do much! We question how this band was allowed to continue beyond this album! And deep, deep hurting! All this and so much MORE! Wanna get a shout-out on a future episode? Give us a rating on iTunes! It helps us, and it helps you feel good about yourself!

discover body count skrillex dear diary teen angst sonny moore

{The Lover's Quarrel}

I SEE U with Eddie Robinson

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 9, 2024 55:16

Ascension Farro, a reclusive alchemist hailing from the far away crystalline caves of Avallia, returns to the Valley In The Kingdom of Acenscia once Per Revolutionary Orbit, to relay to The Ascended Mastery his findings, Astral Readings, Predictions from the Outer Realms, and Oracles from Beyond Infinity, In The Greater Unknown. He is thought to be the most powerful Wizard in this, and perhaps even of the outer realms; which caters to his illusive habits, and social dissertation–however, he remains friendly with C'esme't, as she sometimes visits the caves of Avallia, en route to certain tasks or journeys in the outer realms, often bearing fruits or other rarities as gifts, merely in exchange for his time–which she deems to be precious, allotting to the differences in their respective perceptions of the construct itself. Petrutheio approaches Gían ferociously, in irritation after being bombarded with numerous visions Why is it, lately, that you are constantly in my mind's eye? Perhaps it's that you've become quite fond of me— Perhaps it's with whom you've been spending your time. —and ‘with whom' might that be? With my wife! Yet to be… If you truly were wise, you'd depart from this realm immediately, in order to best preserve your life. Is that a threat? Look me in my eyes. Should I adjust my distance or my height? Look at me. I see you. Mark my words: Oh, but–I haven't a pen to write them— Then store them carefully in your memory-- What? I'm listening. C'esme't is my one and only Queen; She has by Prophecy, been bonded and betrothed to me. Are you reiterating the Prophecy to yourself, or relaying it to me? Let me state this more clearly-- With ‘clarity', you mean; You should leave— Why so urgently? Both urgently and immediately, actually. Is that a suggestion? For now, maybe. Are you implying you would remove me forcefully from this Kingdom, otherwise? Huh. [A silent tension.] You will see. [He leaves calmly.] C'ESME'T. Stop bothering me. What are these devastating lucidities you've dared to dream? Is it daring? You're my Queen. I'm a lady, not a possession. (grimaces) What's a ‘lady' [A bold look.] C'esme't. What of Persephone? She's no more than nothing. So, ‘nothing', then? No more than it. ___ SIR JYRE! MY LIEGE! Where is C'esme't!? I don't know… Don't lie to me! Why not? It's fun. Is banishment fun? Mine, or yours? Where is she!? [a slight gasp/beat] …my dear nephew— —we're not related— —not by blood… Where is C'esme't? [he pauses for a moment, before turning away to pour a drink.] You should sit. I'm fine, thanks. Drink? [Petruthieo pauses for a moment, reflecting on the previous night's happenings.] I don't drink. Maybe you should. Where's my Queen? —Is she yours? I'll have you exiled. No you won't. I won't? [sir jyre turns to produce a small golden charm, which swings, sparking at the end of a golden chain. Without hesitation, Petrutheo is immediately familiar.] Where's she gone? You'll either sit, or you'll drink if you really want to know. Petrutheo sits, flushed and defeated. I'll tell you— What is it? I am under strict confidentiality enforcements. How exactly strict She'll kill me—-and you. Gían comes running into the room, flustered. Where is she?! —and him. What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

T07E10: Sonny Moore

MÃºsicos de SillÃ³n

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 13, 2024 64:27

Playlist con música relacionada al episodio: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4jl5LBFffhZp6Grzp3SrDU YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9oBrXWdjjXQ774csnuZtxHinyG_TDz-r Sonny Moore, conocido artísticamente como Skrillex, es un influyente productor de dubstep. Su impacto en la escena musical le han valido múltiples premios, consolidándolo como una figura destacada en la música electrónica contemporánea y poniendo en el mapa la palabra dubstep. Únete a nuestro grupo de Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1012646383467657 Síguenos: https://www.instagram.com/musicosdesillonpodcast/ https://twitter.com/musicosdesillon https://www.facebook.com/M%C3%BAsicos-de-Sill%C3%B3n-113977144532722

spotify playlist skrillex sonny moore

79: XENA, Palestinian Warrior Princess [Encore]

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 15, 2023 52:16

Six-time Grammy winner and electronic DJ, Sonny Moore, aka Skrillex, recently released a trove of new music after a nearly decade-long hiatus of full-length solo material. Through a mutual friend, the visionary producer was introduced to a Palestinian vocalist by the name of Nai Barghouti – an acclaimed composer and flute player who's notably famous for creating her own signature fusion of jazz and Middle Eastern soundscapes. But what happens when you blend her angelic, and often times, enchanting voice with a pulsating techno beat and rhythmic, percussive claps? Stay tuned as I SEE U host Eddie Robinson chats candidly with renowned singer-songwriter, Nai Barghouti. We explore the meaning behind their collaborative track called, "XENA," including a deep dive into Palestinian folklore and the song's cultural message of empowerment. The instrumentalist also describes her unique vocal style and how she's used one of the most traumatic experiences of her childhood, while living in Jerusalem under military occupation, as inspiration for her remarkable musical career.

culture dj jerusalem grammy jazz beyonce amsterdam palestine palestinians lizzo middle eastern al jazeera skrillex xena warrior princess warrior princess noisia indian music eddie robinson thys sonny moore

Military Appreciation with Sonny Moore

Connect First Baptist Enterprise

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 3, 2023 14:53

military appreciation sonny moore

-THE MASKED BANANA.

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 16, 2023 23:21

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

[Fight Facilities]

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 10, 2023 60:42

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

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

[The Synesthetic Experience.]

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 15, 2023 80:48

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

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

[Objective//Subjective.]

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 12, 2023 34:39

I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes imm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But iMm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what thisis supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to broklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet.l Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

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

-Cross Dimensional Parallels. (S7 Ch. II Teaser)

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 15, 2023 12:20

I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

{Enter The Multiverse} S7E004 - “Illuminatus.”

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 5, 2023 22:26

I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

multiverse copyright overhead dillon francis illuminatus sonny moore

Shabbat After Sundown 002. ‘-complications.' VII - “it's Jew Magic.” {7.}

Play Episode Listen Later May 30, 2023 64:33

I just want to have sex with you. At this point, I don't want anything else— but know this, even the most simple, natural, animalistic thing is unattainable— I'm not even successful enough to know you— Or beautiful enough— Or rich enough— Or whatever it is that gets to sit in that seat next to you— I'm not enough. So whatever it is— Whatever energy won't leave my body— The racing and obsessive thoughts about you— The surges of lust and passion through my body— Wanting you and only you Needing you and only you That feeling that no one else will ever measure up — because no one else will ever measure up I hate it— And I'm upset as fuck. Shabbat after sunset II A spell starts working the very moment you decide to do it. It works well when you know and understand its direct and exact intention SHIA LABEOUF and SUNNI BLŪ are easily Hollywood's most obnoxious and cringeworthy couple. Nothings more cringeworthy than this, though. SUPACREE and DIPLO go PUBLIC, Ewwww. They are gross. They're so gross. Ugh. Okay. We gotta find Skrillex and get back to the dimension where that whole first storyline- What guest storyline SCARY MONSTERS AND— You're not real! I am real. No! Go away. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. Get out! Ok. You're just a character in my book mothafucka! Peru firebox fml AH! THANK MADONNA! Lol Tongue in cheek we are— Around the way we go, To a place we only know In my body, in my soul I should have let out before I left but Ain't nobody got time for that I Just recently learned what a New York minute is— I don't like minute men, But I like miniatures It was the strangest thing— Just the day, And the thought of the man, Had me swoon and nearly fall in love again Wonder what had become of him, And remembered for a moment What love is I had the rest of Renaissance to finish my quick set—which was only a few songs away— and at least I had made it t had made it to the gym, I thought — but suddenly, or maybe even not so, I was haunted by residual sex dreams of Dillon Frances, tememberqnces of Jon Sennet, and all the things I had said and done up to that point, which had led me to a point of absolute and udder confusion, withdrawal and detest hem t from everything I had learned about reality- at an accelerated pace— The irony of it was, I was hopping to beyoncè Shazaming what sounded like a familiar friend in death, Kurt Cobain, or at least I thought, and taking everything I could for aampling purposes? If not just for sheer enjoyment— “You could write a book about me” Jon had one piped “Don't” , he followed. And for years, I listened, unknowing that the collections of poetry, early additions to my song catalogue, and entries in my very intimate auto-biographical timeline would culminate someday to be alone books themselves, let alone entries into the festival project, which now coveted the expanse of what was surely several books, thousands of songs, and an endless collection of poetry that had yet to pay off, but perhaps one day would, even after my death—which I was sure was presently, as nothing seemed at all as it had been before— Skip to the Whatever. Pressed for time My expressions repressed Overused phrases And yet, I still mean them How many cases of Fiji water did beyoncè sell in one like? Did we ever connect those timelines? Lol no. Well, I'm not racist. Are you sure. No! GROWLS. —but my dragon is. Oh shit. I don't need hair but a knee brace Don't make that face at me Cause you want it that way Yeah You wanted it that way SONNY MOORE ends up in BEYONCE's body after an attempt to finally recapture the original SUPACREE is thwarted. Lol she's a good actress, I know she can play this. Sense memory To the end of the world and back witb you, To Right back where we started, Just a little bit further out And a little bit better off Still not where we belong, Still too far gone from what we thought we all deserved And still, And yet, And here we are Another Random Album Oh my God Don't let the tears fall, now You're just a sore spot in my body That I need to work out And I don't know how it got so bad That I haven't a care in the world to be had Or a friend, But I sure do miss my class My passenger Nah, it can't be, That dreams mean anything Listen, I talked to the cat, Quite candidly, She was fantastic, Had a knack for making me laugh Oh wsnna okay good and robbers huh Nah hon I wanna play rockstars and movie stars Stick cats Stocks and bond Shop o.Lb wakstreet insyead of Walmart If that's what money does Calm down, It's just a jamizame Thought I was gone, But I just nodded off some I thought you wanted all of nothing Want the dodgers, But the Boston. Socks won, I want all the love you've got And God forgot Let season 7 commence, Timmy turners in over his head His orherchakf In another dimension A dead beat dad But only because of this STAY DOWN, TIMMY. SUNNI BLU is a drug lord and well known king pen Oh, the eloquence of ignorance, Exerting his power over me (From behind) And he knows I like it He knows I like it And he knows I don't have time for this No need for distractions It's just an itch I need to scratch And it's just an attraction A fatal attraction YO, FUCK DILKON FRAMCIZ Sunni, you're drunk—again. I DONT GIVR A FUCK. I hopped the wrong bus To far Rockaway With my heart in my pocket And a cop on my conscious {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Shabbat After Sundown 002. / ‘-complications.' VII - “It's Jew Magic.”

Play Episode Listen Later May 30, 2023 64:33

I just want to have sex with you. At this point, I don't want anything else— but know this, even the most simple, natural, animalistic thing is unattainable— I'm not even successful enough to know you— Or beautiful enough— Or rich enough— Or whatever it is that gets to sit in that seat next to you— I'm not enough. So whatever it is— Whatever energy won't leave my body— The racing and obsessive thoughts about you— The surges of lust and passion through my body— Wanting you and only you Needing you and only you That feeling that no one else will ever measure up — because no one else will ever measure up I hate it— And I'm upset as fuck. Shabbat after sunset II A spell starts working the very moment you decide to do it. It works well when you know and understand its direct and exact intention SHIA LABEOUF and SUNNI BLŪ are easily Hollywood's most obnoxious and cringeworthy couple. Nothings more cringeworthy than this, though. SUPACREE and DIPLO go PUBLIC, Ewwww. They are gross. They're so gross. Ugh. Okay. We gotta find Skrillex and get back to the dimension where that whole first storyline- What guest storyline SCARY MONSTERS AND— You're not real! I am real. No! Go away. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. Get out! Ok. You're just a character in my book mothafucka! Peru firebox fml AH! THANK MADONNA! Lol Tongue in cheek we are— Around the way we go, To a place we only know In my body, in my soul I should have let out before I left but Ain't nobody got time for that I Just recently learned what a New York minute is— I don't like minute men, But I like miniatures It was the strangest thing— Just the day, And the thought of the man, Had me swoon and nearly fall in love again Wonder what had become of him, And remembered for a moment What love is I had the rest of Renaissance to finish my quick set—which was only a few songs away— and at least I had made it t had made it to the gym, I thought — but suddenly, or maybe even not so, I was haunted by residual sex dreams of Dillon Frances, tememberqnces of Jon Sennet, and all the things I had said and done up to that point, which had led me to a point of absolute and udder confusion, withdrawal and detest hem t from everything I had learned about reality- at an accelerated pace— The irony of it was, I was hopping to beyoncè Shazaming what sounded like a familiar friend in death, Kurt Cobain, or at least I thought, and taking everything I could for aampling purposes? If not just for sheer enjoyment— “You could write a book about me” Jon had one piped “Don't” , he followed. And for years, I listened, unknowing that the collections of poetry, early additions to my song catalogue, and entries in my very intimate auto-biographical timeline would culminate someday to be alone books themselves, let alone entries into the festival project, which now coveted the expanse of what was surely several books, thousands of songs, and an endless collection of poetry that had yet to pay off, but perhaps one day would, even after my death—which I was sure was presently, as nothing seemed at all as it had been before— Skip to the Whatever. Pressed for time My expressions repressed Overused phrases And yet, I still mean them How many cases of Fiji water did beyoncè sell in one like? Did we ever connect those timelines? Lol no. Well, I'm not racist. Are you sure. No! GROWLS. —but my dragon is. Oh shit. I don't need hair but a knee brace Don't make that face at me Cause you want it that way Yeah You wanted it that way SONNY MOORE ends up in BEYONCE's body after an attempt to finally recapture the original SUPACREE is thwarted. Lol she's a good actress, I know she can play this. Sense memory To the end of the world and back witb you, To Right back where we started, Just a little bit further out And a little bit better off Still not where we belong, Still too far gone from what we thought we all deserved And still, And yet, And here we are Another Random Album Oh my God Don't let the tears fall, now You're just a sore spot in my body That I need to work out And I don't know how it got so bad That I haven't a care in the world to be had Or a friend, But I sure do miss my class My passenger Nah, it can't be, That dreams mean anything Listen, I talked to the cat, Quite candidly, She was fantastic, Had a knack for making me laugh Oh wsnna okay good and robbers huh Nah hon I wanna play rockstars and movie stars Stick cats Stocks and bond Shop o.Lb wakstreet insyead of Walmart If that's what money does Calm down, It's just a jamizame Thought I was gone, But I just nodded off some I thought you wanted all of nothing Want the dodgers, But the Boston. Socks won, I want all the love you've got And God forgot Let season 7 commence, Timmy turners in over his head His orherchakf In another dimension A dead beat dad But only because of this STAY DOWN, TIMMY. SUNNI BLU is a drug lord and well known king pen Oh, the eloquence of ignorance, Exerting his power over me (From behind) And he knows I like it He knows I like it And he knows I don't have time for this No need for distractions It's just an itch I need to scratch And it's just an attraction A fatal attraction YO, FUCK DILKON FRAMCIZ Sunni, you're drunk—again. I DONT GIVR A FUCK. I hopped the wrong bus To far Rockaway With my heart in my pocket And a cop on my conscious {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

{ MK ULTRA SEX SLAVES DONALD MARSHALL CLONES}

Play Episode Listen Later May 25, 2023 53:30

“She's going through my bag.” I thought to myself– the warm running shower over the back of my neck returning me fully to my body; It had taken something like an hour to return to myself– still within and yet so far out of my body, that the twisting and turning cosmic purple light of my natural aura became all of me, as, whisked away through space and time, pushed and pulled through all of the trauma I had endured certainly over the last few years alone, but the entirety of my lifetime–it had all been part of something bigger and greater than I could have known–supposedly all in my control, and yet seemingly not-so at all. I could feel her in the other room, checking my bag–she would find the sage that I had meant to burn in the bathroom during my shower, and yet had been in such a state that I only grabbed my clothes, unwilling to go to the gym: my honesty had again betrayed my own safety–earlier, my roommate asking where I had gone in the late night/early morning before, and my response, which was honest, only confirmed why I had come to the conclusion not once but many times that honesty will only ever hurt you —I had learned well and under the excruciating pain of reality that any vampire, vulture, or entity alone would take honesty as weakness, only to be used against you; I had reached the tipping point in being taken advantage of—I was hungry, owed money, and out of sorts—my new roommate was off in a number of ways, but I was no longer willing to be subjected to whatever experiment at wlll—I had for years been a test rat, my suicidal tendencies, notions, and ideations often vilified, but justifiable nonetheless. ‘I tell the truth!” , the words of Bibi Bourelly, of course one of many of Sonny's suspected lovers, rang in my ears sometimes, as I teetered on the grounds of morality in the under relms of poverty, where people as often as ever lied, stole, or otherwise continually broke more codes and societal expectations in order to get by, or even get ahead – “It's deep, but it ain't that deep.”--more words apparently by the “wise” Bibi, one of the handful of the always-priviliaged, raised-rich spoiled brats Sonny kept in his arsenal, himself a mere tool of the psychological torture which I was certain would eventually end my life, but certainly had halted my affinity for any career or ambition in music whatsoever anyway–not that I cared much for anything. I understood now that I was being controlled and manipulated at nearly every corner–sorted into the overall trash pile of other miserable and useless slaves and subhuman beings marked unfit, and of course–after whatever had happened with my former roommate, now had an increasingly irritating annoyance of the pestering new roommate, who was otherwise nice and sweet, but of course to the point of suspicion. I had left my body long enough to think about anything and everything that night—and after the amount of wrong that I had endured, the meltdown bad been a longtime coming. I had been discarded as trash, thrown to the wolves, and completely abandoned by anyone and everyone but God itself, all other forms of love a sheer illusion—another form of attachment I had only learned to sever under the cruel injustice and inequality of the world. My body was merely a shell—all else formed around it a paradox. My roommate often at random brought up events or subjects from my own past that I wished not to talk about, at first altering me to the notion that she may be some kind of therapist or psychologist–maybe even military. She claimed to be Japanese and also have lived in Germany for 20 years–sad herself to have been in the Homeless system for over four years, and “trapped” in the united states unable to work due to a lack of social security number; There were many things about her story I found off or strange and very odd–and so I knew never to trust her or anyone else for that matter– but it was the fact that she had brought up Shamanism first and foremost without me having so much as a word about anything, of course, coupled with the oddity that she would grind her teeth throughout the night as did my estranged ex husband and former roommate: a disease which I learned only affected 10-30% of the population in total: I suspected of course for the entire program to be some covert operation: The State was in fact, the same regime responsible for, just after the death of my son, fueled by lack of sleep from grief – tied me to a bed (though I had bee cooperative and non-violent) overdosed me involuntarily with a strange medication and allowed me to urinate myself, then lay for hours soaked in urine–and only after days of psychological abuse and torture, forcing me to talk to a Mormon Bishop, and sedating me with heavy doses of lithium— which deemed me unable to talk, move, or speak for several days–and caused me excruciating migraines—all for the sake of psychological experimentation. Of course, this was still The United States of America, a Globalist Republic– and of course, I was still a black woman–the most demonized, traumatized, criminalized existence on the face of the earth. My new roommate had talked openly for days about being attacked by some kind of spirit or demon, which forced her to gain weight; a demonic type force that supposedly sat in her stomach for and implanted certain thoughts in the form of voice in her head– at the same time, she had been increasingly adamant that I never burn sage or palo santo–she had already proven herself to be a snitch, as in the early morning hours of my first morning as her roomate, the Operations team flooded in, opened my drawer, and of course confiscated my $8 sage stick, luckily overlooking the palo santo–she of course pretended not to have narced, but over the coming days would allow it to slip that she had indeed told the Operations team of the sage, which caused them to follow up and confiscate it. I found Sage to be crucial to my protection and part of my religious sanctity: That anyhow, I had been made to eventually kill myself or fall prey to the system which would in any other way ensure that I was made to become ill by way of poor nutrition– The system failed to provide vegan or even vegetarian meals, and of course the same system made sure that my food benefits were handed out irregularly–I often had no money to eat at all, and just as well drifted into the memory of one of my last conversations with the host of the air bnb I had stayed at, who also seemed to have been on some kind of agenda–he had also constantly brought up things that I didn't want to talk about, consistently forcing conversations about race relations, the race war, how oppressed black people are, The White Supremacy, and other nightmarish perception-altering and overall negative assertions, leaving me with this: “I had to steal food!”, he said, claiming having once been homeless himself–a story I neither wanted to hear or honestly belied. It had been long since I could trust anyone besides myself, but especially a man–not that color had much to do with it, besides of course my constantly being reminded that I was stuck black. ‘All the more reason not to care.' I thought, my apathy becoming an overriding factor. I was starving–and though not quite in the actual stages of starvation, which I had staved off by eating genetically modified fruit over the last couple of days– which didn't appear to have any nutritional value at all and certainly didn't give my body any energy I could use, especially not to take the grueling one-hour ride to the dirty, overrun gym–which at least had a sauna and was 24 hours–but useless, as the sauna was closed during the overnight hours when I wanted to go, escaping my new roomates controlling habits, forceful talks equipped with code words and subliminal messages, the pesterance of being unable to cleanse the room with sage, and, of course — her almost nightmarish sensitivity to everything, which included light, the music in my headphones being too loud (so much so that I could hear the city noise over anything I could in my headphones, and of course made it impossible to work in ableton, as everything I did as she tried to sleep was “too loud”--even writing was forbidden, as I one had had been typing away at the 7th season's script and she asked that I not type at al– nor could I use my mixer, as the button pressing was “too loud”, and while most of my musical inspiration came at night, I could see that for whatever purpose, this person was being used to manipulate and control me once more- No burning sage, no making mixtapes, no typing… “You have the whole day when I am gone, you can do whatever you want.”, she said As if I myself didn't have things to do during the day–just getting to and from the gym taking stretches of precious time alone–of course met with another method of psychological torture– the constant drilling, hammering, and knocking about in the room directly above mine–which sometimes of course felt like being opened from the inside out, my synestesia poking holes in my sanity-and while that should have been enough of an excuse to spend all of my days at the gym–the gym itself had become a way for the system to control and manipulate my mind, for even as my body grew stronger, my mind grew weak and muddled being followed around by little white girls swinging their hair in my face, people coughing all around, and trash everywhere I had fallen into a heap of despair, as the combination of the date alone, the research I had been doing, the work I wasn't getting done, the money I wasn't making, and the lack of nutrition set in–the night shift operations refusing to allow me to use the can opener, after I had left it atop the microwave and not “put it in his hands”-- a classic misogynistic, controlling black man, he always gave the residents a terrible attitude, but I had no reason myself to dislike him before this moment. “I don't have to let you use the can opener.” He said. My only food for days had come from the food bank, besies the free GMO-fruit the shelter sometimes handed out, which had been making me sick and lethargic; of course, because it had come from a food bank, they required a can-opener–as the luxury of a pop-top had rarely been afforded with such off-brand food, I might have considered myself blessed to have, if it weren't for the “no cans” rule at the shelter: Neither did they provide a kitchen to cook in, and so residents were expected to eat microwave TV-dinners–but of course, there were no vegan and vegetarian options, and even if there had been, I wasn't absolutely sure that I would trust by God to eat it, as the two microwaves buzzed for hours at a time to warm the food fed three-times daily to the zombie like residents, who I sometimes observed in passing on my way in or out of the shelter. “This is my only food.”, I balked. “That's not my problem!” he said. “My food stamps aren't coming regularly: I got this at the food bank and it's the only food I have.”, I explained. “SO?!” He said “You're not even supposed to have that on the premises.” “I know.” , I said. “But it's the only food I have.” The system had been so inconsistent with my food benefits that I never could expect when I would be able to eat again, or for how long–it seemed it was all a sham to force me into the mental health system. I was malnourished, lethargic, and still injured from the fight I had been in just weeks earlier. “That's not my problem.” He scoffed. “So I can't use the can opener?” I asked. He just ignored me, shrugging. On any other day, i might have just brushed it off–but on this night in particular, hunger forged a deep tear into my soul, the weight of all I had been through plummeting down into one nearly-fatal blow – the man was arrogant as always but on this particular night seemed increasingly evil. “Yo, this is fucked up! I can't survive on only bananas and you don't have any Vegan options: my food stamps don't come regularly and I can't eat! This is FUCKED UP.” Even with all I had been through, I had realized I barely blew up–though far from an actual saint, I had been gifted with at least the patience of one, really only ever doomed to explode after a buildup–and it had been months of being what seemed like strategically terrorized: my fight delayed, keeping me trapped in the United States, prone to corporate slavery and no privacy at all, my bills outweighing any income I had the ability to make, trapped inside of my too-fat, too-black body for too long, and of course, being tormented by Skrillex, trapped in the homeless system, hazed by White Supremacists, blacklisted by Insomniac, and sent into an otherwise chaotic and segregated world from which I did not come from–i had been bullied, physically attacked, made to fight, consistently followed and of course, ever-presently chronically reminded of an abusive marriage which had left me homeless, mourning and grieving two dead children, and estranged from the third–who had in the care of his father become morbidly obese, subject to neglect, and unaware of my presense–let alone the love I had for him left–the only love I really had for anything anymore–and not that it mattered; I could not afford to care for him, or myself–and had become uncomfortably numb, sober, cellibate, and brainwashed enough to have once believed that I could succeed in entertainment–though, as it turned out– I had just been another useless subject of mass manipulation, predictive programming, human experimentation, and psychological terrorism– my life, among many didn't matter. I had been deemed useless, and doomed to be discarded at the age of 30. My suspicions had been confirmed; As I had collapsed into a heap of flesh, returning to the room in hunger and fury and throwing the three cans of vegetables to the ground, tears gushed from my eyes as I considerably died in more ways than one, over and over– overcome by the years of torture I had endured from the system itself, for whatever reason, and of course, a breakdown I would have otherwise avoided entirely, had my annoying roommate not earlier reminded me “Is it the 23rd?” and it was indeed the 23rd of May, the anniversary of my son's passing – he would have been 7 or 8, but I had lost count, attempting to erase the memory of my broken, fucked up world. To think, in another world I may have had 7 or 8 year old twins and a husband–which was in fact, all that I even wanted to begin with in the first place; I had given up my dreams of being a household name–a broadway actress, a television star, a world-class musician–I had given up my own dreams long ago. I left my body entirely, curling into a huddled ball in the workchair, tucking my head between my legs and under the desk, my arms in a tight grip underneath my knees–my mind racing and soul ripping from its capsule, hovering above my body and enamored that I had become thin enough to fall into such a position, as if bracing for impact in a plane crash; and suddenly, there I was–all at once, in-and-out of body “Brace for Impact!” The plane crash, of course – and all the other scenes I had yet to write playing over and over in my head– the stories of my innermost imagination shattering and spread across the starlit sky which I became in a fuchsia purple wisp, space and time forming around me–I was neither dead nor alive, and though I could still feel my abdomen firmly pressed against my thighs, I was so far outside of and above it looking down at it, completely gone–and though I could feel myself still breathing shallow, hollow breaths, I could no longer feel the weight of the anger, the sting of the hunger, or the grip of evil around my neck. It was indeed a Holy War–constantly haunted by memories of a past I only wished to forget, followed and prodded by soldiers of an unknown force–military? CIA? I didn't know , but it was certain that I was being watched and studied, my psychic inclinations and seemingly supernatural gifts becoming exploited and exposed throughout my entire life; My roomate had initiated too many conversations that just so eerily suggested that indeed, she too, had been marked with a task– collecting information about my psyche, living habits, preferences, diet, and, of course–history–and though she seemed kind enough and did have brown eyes, i would probably never trust another human being again. She rubbed my back as I sat, still rolled into a fetal position and weeping, for the time having been unable to move; as she stroked my back and rubbed my hair, half dredlocked and th usually shaven side overgrown into a curly patch on my head, I began to feel the soothing touch of another human being for the first time in years–as I had realized only days before on the subway, squeezed so tightly between two other people during rush hour transit that I could feel them both breathing–i noticed the remarkable truth that I had not been loved or touched in so long that this, being squeezed between two breathing humans, was somewhat soothing–and as I breathed myself heavily in and out, I began to return to my miserable body, in the less-than-miserable room we shared, but not so happily that I would ever become comfortable or call it home. I needed space, but couldn't seem to speak– I returned slowly to consciousness as the tension in my back arose to it's normal pressure, as I lifted my head, my neck clicking from the injury from the fightt. “Do you want to talk about it?” I didn't, but i could barely stand to move my head, and I was, indeed “Barely Breathing”, which I noticed, and seemed to have to cry a little bit more, and a little bit harder after a brief moment thinking about Dillon Francis, and though as I had left my body for quite some time and sat scattered across in all the remains of what might have been pieces of The Festival Project I had written for him, or even in the very least which had been so inspired by–a dark crevice had opened up into a black void, which seemed to occupy the space where my soul had once been, and any of the feelings I had kept there with him–For indeed, I had returned to my body, however, part of me was long gone– and I knew I had indeed faced another spiritual death, cast somehow just in a moment into yet another, even deeper realm of the afterlife, with nothing left to do to submit to it. “I'm probably going to kill myself by summer!” , Alex said–and for some reason her words rattled around in my brain superimposed as some sort of code which probably meant: You're going to kill yourself by summer. It felt true, and though I hadn't been pressed so hard against the doors of suicide, my mind had often drifted to a place of remorse for all that had happened- perhaps I was indeed trapped in a shamanic stronghold–and though I myself had been for some time equipped with healing powers, I had been reluctant to use black or Satanic magic to fight whatever had been the cause of my consistent homelessness, isolation, financial ruin, intense hunger– and foraged bitterness towards whatever external forces that seemed to rule over every entirety of my existence; I had been pulled apart, tortured, tormented, and disfigured in such a way that I wished not to live in the greedy, materialistic money-driven world anyhow. One of the napkins I had balled up and tossed into the Whole Foods bag that my roomate had held out for me the night before had been placed in my backpack, atop the bag where I kept the sage I had replaced and had been hiding and two pieces of palo santo–I didn't care so much as what the punishment would be and had chosen religiously to keep protecting myself, and though my freedom had been threatened, “They'll take you a worse shelter!”, my roomate had yelled, after interrogating me about “smoking” in the room— and, not that I would have allowed her to know, I conceded that in the event I was moved to an even worse shelter, I would simply jump in front of a train or from somewhere high up enough that I knew death was imminent, as so many had before and did each day: there wasn't anything worth living for anyway, and I had given up the fight entirely. The Festial Project was a mockery–Skrillex had been used to terrorize me, and Dillon Francis was no different–there was nothing and no one in the world that I could trust, who would ever understand me. But, I kept waking up in my horrible, miserable body–unloved and unwell, and so at the very least, kept burning my sage, saying my prayers, and wishing something would change–though according to the book I had been reading, slaves such as myself were raised to be disposed of at the age of 30. “In that case…” I had used the modest amount of money I had earned to restart my podcast subscription, knowing that it would be on a limited basis: I wasn't making any money, and was still being followed around by demons–which the book stated, were used to control and manipulate my existence at every turn, and it seemed that the Hell that I had been in for years was entirely inescapable, anyway. I had felt that she would use my downtime as I showered and continued to return to my body to check my bags–leaving behind the balled up napkin as a passive aggressive tactic to let me know that she was aware that I had obstinately lied– But if there was one thing I had learned, is that in the Hell I had been born into and pulled through for 30 years, is that honesty will only hurt you–something someone pretty, rich, and privileged like Bibi Bourelly, Sonny Moore, or even Dillon Francis would never understand–or perhaps, for at least the latter two, being men of great influence and power–knew all-too well. Well enough, at least. ‘This means that they will be locked up in a crazy house for the rest of their life. Rather than be put in straight-jackets with other crazy people it would be better for the person to commit suicide.' ‘twice the normal dose of two kinds of lithium carbonate to put her into a lethargic stupor' ‘The programmers are very careful to have heart monitors on the victim, and to have paddles ready to revive the body. ‘ ‘Dissociation is used as a defense to protect a person from overwhelming pain and trauma. It is a natural ability of the brain. Hypnosis or hypnotic trance is a form of dissociation. There are a number of types of dissociation: amnesia, somnambulistic states, localized paralyses, anaesthesias, and hallucinations. Hypnosis can reproduce all of these dissociative states. The mind naturally hypnotizes itself under various conditions. Hypnosis is a valuable tool to move the mind to different neurophysiological states and to get the mind to different levels of the subconscious mind. Hypnosis can also play a role in working around amnesia, since both are types of dissociation. Hyperventilation helps a person induct into a hypnotic trance. Torture, depersonalization, fear and acute anxiety stimulate the body to hyperventilate. Common objects in a person's life that can be hypnotically given a programming meaning include music, tones, colors, the sight of a book or Bible, the pyramid on the back of a dollar bill, pictures of God, silk scarfs, jewelry, lights, 93 sounds, TV programs, and countless other things. The limit to this is simply the programmer's creativity. A common hypnotic device for washing away pain is running water. MK Ultra Subproject 128 Delta - This is a Greek letter shaped like a triangle which symbolizes change in calculus. It has become a favorite word to use in naming things for the occult elite. Delta teams are 4 person assassination teams which usually are secret teams. Delta Forces is an elite unit that operates under the Joint chiefs of staff that is made up of highly trained total mind-controlled slaves. Delta models are slaves whose sole purpose is assassination. Delta alters are alters within an Illuminati alter system which are programmed to be assassins. These alters are often some of the deepest in a system and in a Genie bottle or with Umbrella programming.

‘-complications' II - “The Skrillex Project” /“The Jungle”

I SEE U with Eddie Robinson

Play Episode Listen Later May 22, 2023 35:55

What are you doing? –dying. Die faster. Q: How do you break up with deadmau5. A: You don't. JOEL TALK TO THE HEAD. Oh, come on! What is this. Idk. I figured if there was a dimension where SUPACREE is dating DIPLO– Ew. What. Ew. –Then there's probably one where she's got somethin' going on with that guy. How do you figure. Hm. Hm. Interesting. Very Interesting Grow up. We all have –girlfriends. –jobs to do. –secret fetishes. Sick. This is retarded. Turn this off. I want to die. WHERE IS SKRILLEX. Skrillex is playing mountain man with a bunch of fake models and rapper dudes, Woah. He looks different. What happened. More on that later. Or not. Oh, come on! Everybody. Shut up. Not me, right? Especially you. *eyes* what's 9x9? Uhhh– Are you serious? This isn't math! Everything is math! HOW IS THIS MOVIE CAST? CAN DEADmAU5 ACT? –short anser: YES. Long Answer: By The time this movie gets made, we'll all be dead. We're all dead now. Dead *and* gone. *crowd gasps exaggeratedly* I THOUGHT THIS MOVIE WAS ABOUT SKRILLEX. It was- he didn't like it. Why wouldn't he like it? You called him a “nigga” 47 times. Was it 47? At the SUPERBOWL. I guess that makes him the champion of niggas. I guess so. Whatever happened to Dillon Francis. Idk he's pussywhipped or something. I guess. Nice. Still gettin it. Shut up, fans. Okay, ouch. How. How–?? How does someone with THIS MUCH pride and THIS MUCH ego get THIS MUCH power? Probably with all that pride and ego. This is correct. ____ {JOSHrushes in violently.] DRAKE Uh huh… SOMETHING IS WRONG. …what makes you say that…? LOOK AT ME. I see you… I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY. –how am I supposed to tell that just by looking at you? YOU ARE SUSPICIOUS. [suspiciously] No I'm not? [He violently grabs DRAKE by his lapel; gripping him with a fierce and wild look in his eyes] Look Motherfucker; I am looking! I have always wanted to kill you–and now there's NOTHING stopping me. EXCEPT THE LAW– [MEGAN/MIRANDA/CARLY enters mysteriously.] Unhand the boob. BOTH ….MEGAN?! JOSH (er…wait) Sure. [They stare at her in awe; her silhouette grasping at the shadows of the dimly lit space; she is dressed in a sultry black dress, sheer panty hose, and knee high boos, with a matching fedora and puffs seductively on a long and narrow cigarette from the extra long holster. ] Separate. [They obey, bewildered.] Sit. You smoke now? Sometimes. For dramatic effect. This is uncomfortable. Very unsettling. Wait. Wait. Are we filming right now. Is someone filming? [Breaking 4th wall.] Camera's always rolling. ;;PAUSE. Oh, that's why Drew Barrymore was in my dream last night. This is a lot of celebrities. GOD I'm working on something. ::||ALRIGHT, UNPAUSE. Hold on a second. No, we're rolling. –I am one-hundred percent heavily medicated right now. I second that. Ditto. –I'm also slightly intoxicated. Also that. Hashtag “me too.” No “hashtag me too” DOn't say that in Hollywood! It was a joke! I was kidding! That's not funny. Nobody's laughing! C'mon! I meant–I'm like, drunk right now– Still though– Very tacky… I've been day drinking. Drinking and smoking?! I don't believe you! Oh, you don't? [beat] hmm . [Shrugs, admittedly.] Wait, wait–hold it. No holding, we're rolling. Are we rolling–? Holding… And…We're rolling! I'm definitely rolling. Drake! I'm rolling. Ballsacks. C'mon, man! *drake being dumb* I'm being serious! So am I. This is serious. *smokes* Gross. Stop doing that. Doing what? This is what I do… No, I mean: I woke up this morning and I swear to God– Woah! Don't do that. I did everything under the sun EXCEPT go to work to be on TV for a show I wrapped like 15 years ago! You–WHAT? Uhhh… Is this real? … … … Damn. this just got super existential; I have to take a second to summerize this, I'll fill in the dialogue late , I guess The scene was running on anyway. What? I liked it. Anyway, So what we have here is a cross-dimensional triad: DRAKE has been running throughout the interdimensions of time, but unbeknownst to the audience is which DRAKE this is; is this the real life DRAKE BELL, actually a fictional character written into the fabric of SUPACREE'S reality as fate would have it–or the fictional DRAKE from DRAKE & JOSH; Although apparently heavily medicated, JOSH PECK, the actor has been tossed into a nightmarish infinite loop along with other various HOLLYWOOD CELEBRITIES, as SUPACREE has opened various portals throughout the known universe in order to life-switch timelines without having to shapeshift into anyone's body, simply switching her own timeline–with that of her ideal career; Only having done this once, however, triggers an inescapable loop of infinite switches, resulting in a massive disillusion and chaos, as some celebrities go missing entirely from any known reality (in which SUPACREE omnisciently exists, typically, intermittently throughout the series); However, in this scene the audience must suspend its sense of belief, as it takes place in a multidimensional environment; DRAKE and JOSH perhaps, has been running throughout it's entirety, never having been canceled and JOSH PECK has arrived on set in a drug-fueled delusional meltdown; A Parrallell JOSH at some point perhaps even switching timelines; This mysterious, shadowy version of MIRANCA/MEGAN/CARLY is written as such so that this character can be placed or moved to or throughout various specific timelines: Adhering to the plot however, JOSH PECK is an actor, out of sorts with himself, meanwhile– This version of DRAKE is the fictional character from a TV show, in his own fictional world; He is a 4th dimensional device However, The audience should remain unaware that MIRANDA COSGROVE has already merged with her 4th dimensional counterparts, after joining SUPACREE in her Hollywood crusades, traveling through time, space, and the inter/multidimensions on missions to answer the SOS Hollywood originally signaled to SUPACREE during The Legend of Supacree in the first season. That should do. Wow. Hold it What. You looked this deep into that boy's eyes? Not on purpose. - The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe. Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife. Wow, You're funny, God. If i must say so. I mean. Wow. I didn't do this all myself, you know; I had help. What?! Help From Who?! Dillon Francis, Apparently Oh, I highly doubt that, Oh, I wouldn't . I need a lover— I need a lover; Call me your lover (I want just a lover) I need a lover (I need a lover) Dillon Francis was quite possibly the whitest white man in the ever living world— But maybe, that's what I liked about him. Now that I had time to process that for the most part, I had been tricked into fulfilling some strange prophecy— there was nothing less-alluring about the world I had been peering into, now more than anything Movement at the stillpoint Mark something You've got to balance this shit out— You've got to Turn the world on its head (I don't get it) Now you're into this club (I don't fit in) Now you're into this world (But we've been here) Wait I'm not new to this! Wanna go do it again?! Nothing's new to me! I keep secrets like Fountains keep pennies Plant daisies on mountains —your hand in my mouth says that “Head is the answer” Thanks, Kendrick Now I remember what I wanted in the first place Now I remember what I printed; What I cooked him in the kitchen after— —back to keeping secrets; What's an apron and a hat is all you're wearing when I get there— Just like the man in Manhattan Or cat on the Channel— A special edition of some shit with Mario Lopez That sent me right back to the minion With eyes like you had in that dream I went back to I'd say “Fuck Dillon Francis” If I thought of “fuck” as an adjective, Instead of an adverb. Fuck this whole world — Now I just want to surf, I had just scratched the surface of scratching— Before storing my turntables What. All of a sudden, I'm a DJ?! Gee thanks! But God, I'm still loveless and I hope you Marry that blue eyed girl Pop out a bunch of kids that look Just like you What else would I do with my time Than scroll through Instagram And eat a ham-salmon sandwhich— Thinking of going for pancakes, after god likes me fat, We talk much more that way PASQUALE I need you up at night. CC For what. SUPCREE For what. SUNNI BLŪ I AM UP. PASQUALE: This is for what. THE INSOMNIACS ARE ALL IN . “ALL IN” wtf does that mean. The grey streaks in his beard drive me wild-his eyes even wilder; “it's best I not look into them”, I thought, “when giving him this stone..” or maybe, even at all; I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, I would fall in love—all the way in, and not just the lust that I had been struggling with, noticeably for years, now; I would see him from the inside out, from the outside in—and any way in between. I already knew that I wanted him—but for exactly what and how long seemed to allude me. It ha: been a long day with no end yet in sight, and though I was tired, accidentally having fasted throughout the day — namely because I had been out of water the night before, dethawing ice from the hotel's machine into an emergency supply—and having awoke with an immovable force to head straight to the gym, promptly after doing laundry. Though I left what was considerably late, conforming my sleep patterns to my roommate's schedule had not been the easiest of tasks; I found it to be true that energy—or rather, a lack therof, was remarkably contagious. I had been more tired than usual, and more “down” than my normal waves—in fact—it was easy to differentiate this energy from my own, and though I was thankful to have a quiet, moderately clean, and near silent roommate—lucky, even—it was nearly impossible to escape the grip of empathy as it grew into me, our time together short but stifling enough that I was up into the early mornings as she dawdled away on her phone—and, having spent the entirety of my stay offline—becoming increasingly sensitive to her phone's radio signals, sometimes seeming to blast into my brain and penetrating the deepest of sleeps, and though I thought to return to deadmau5 to set myself to rest, for the most part I had been enjoying peaceful enough rest once she finally did get to sleep—in the early morning, which meant that I would more naturally wake closer to noon, eating up most of my morning with sleeping and battling the force of inner city traffic to make my way into the gym, or the library—whichever suited the day and the time—though, for the last three days, I had made it a point to get to the gym daily, rather than every other day, which I had missed, but become a hassle—and though I had found a gym that was decent and clean, it was rather small, the sauna never hot enough—and of course, as it had appeared from my first day having arrived at the club, I was of course being watched and followed—and though I had briefly wondered by “who”, I knew it was of the through forces of The Eye, otherwise known as the Illuminati, if there ever were such a thing— (but of course, there wasn't) often blasting Skrillex every other song as some means of torture, which I could attempt to ignore, but my body couldn't—failing to lift under the pressure of a weakened state by about the third Skrillex tune, confirming my suspicions entirely—a drastic jump from conspiracy to the conformation of psychological terrorism via Skrillex—but for what? By now, of course, I had begun to figure out that I wasn't entirely normal, —that something wasn't right, or maybe even that I had done something exceptionally right, and though I didn't know exactly what, I began to think about the amount of writings I had published online, as well as the significantly “extraterrestrial” recordings that went along with them, and though having used Skrillex as a springboard, the longer I went mulling over all that had happened I realized that there appeared to be something bigger at place—Perhaps I was, indeed, incredibly enlightened—and there seemed to be a greater, outer force that indeed knew and saw all, even deeply into my psyche, and into my dreams. Though I had darted down with excruciating detail into my Google documents the latest dream that I had with Dillon Francis, I didn't know what exactly to make of this particular cadence of synchronicities on this otherwise ‘normal' morning, not that anything at all had actually been normal in any way by far, as long as I could remember backward. Things had indeed been strange for years, which had culminated in the conglomeration of documents, recordings, and other odd-end and unfinished projects that had so far been created under the umbrella of The Festival Project—but it was this day that I truly began to realize that there was something more than circumstantial or coincidental at all about whoever I was, and whatever I was doing—and even with all of my theoretical writings of supernatural, subliminal, and subconscious circumstances and happenings, I wasn't, having existed for the most part broken, homeless, and unpaid for my efforts—sure of either who I was, or what I was doing—let alone how. In all of the strangeness, I only attributed “God” for whatever weird strange thing would happen next— and here it was. I had been thinking about Mario Lopez a lot recently or lately, in bits and pieces and of course less often than I thought of any other reoccurring figure, but certainly about Mario Lopez, his seemingly ageless and incredibly healthy, youthful appearance, and oddly, even of his children, as I knew that he had them; and I had, of course, along with all of those things had wondered about his wife—the whole of his family, of course. His fame had lasted nearly my entire lifetime, and I was almost always pleasantly charmed by the sound of his voice, or his familiar face; and there it was, now—plastered up on a screen I hadn't realized was even there before, but now somehow stood out broadly against the backdrop of the otherwise drab laundromat, which I of course found to be remarkable, as I had very recently for whatever reason been struck with flashes of not so much a curiosity of the man at all—but rather a form of reflective thought. “Oh shit, there he is!” I thought, finding just his appearance on TV coincidental, at best, before zeroing in on the actual atrocities yet unexplainable by man, or any other force—the only cruel explaination being that The Illuminati itself did indeed have access to my Google documents, even though I had been for the most part of two weeks completely offline, with no intention to publish at all—however—I had forgotten about the dream itself, until this sudden collision of sorts had stirred remnince of at all; a dream I had recorded with implicit detail from my first waking moments, indicating some importance; my dreams had been straightforward and vivid lately, and had been filled with all sorts of reoccurring figures, from Sonny Moore, to Billie Ellish, and of course Dillon Francis-and in moments, of course, the later had come rushing back to me with a vengeance, as a life sized-dancing Minion with two differently colored eyes shifted my attentioj from the screen, directly to recalling that dream— the most vivid dream of all of them—and though Sonny had appeared to me more recently, I thought it best not to record them; I still felt betrayed that he had come to New York and left me to be circulated through the system—which of course I was sure had it's purpose, but didn't make me resent him any less for it, compounding the hurt that he had put me through parading Kayla Lauren around—it seemed the entire model of The Skrillex Conundrum was to make me feel stupid, fat, and in cursed skin— and I was at least no longer two of those things. Still, though, I did carry feelings for the man that were impossible to offload, and though I had quite blatently broadcasted my sexual attraction to Dillon, who was apparently, of course, taken by a blue eyed girl of course—it had somehow become deeper at least to me in the following days and weeks afteer my departure from “Season 6” and it's adjacent episodes, a strange half-season debacle in which the emotional uproar of Sonny's appearance in New York and the upheaval of my surroundings—my entry into the homeless system—allowed me to embarrass myself without reform in the honest and brutally raw, post-season aftermath—a restless and sleepless chaos filled nightmare from which the only redeeming comfort was deadmau5, which may have been the point of it at all—as I fiddled in Ableton, it seemed to become a more natural process, creating drum patterns with ease and the once-tedious challenges and difficulties of music production and engineering having become things of the past—but something in all this had seeded in my mind a crucial element of the cosmic alchemists mindset I had been living in; there seemed to be, as in the Christopher Nolan film Tenet, parallel streams of time running both “forward” and “backward”, and even “up” and “down” respectively, creating where and how i was at any given moment as the perceptive present—as in—there always seemed to be some extension of myself both forward and backward in time, if there were such things, and as I continued to write, evidences of God, extra terrestrial presence, interplanetary mechanisms—mauverability through deep space, and time travel all became increasingly and rapidly relevant; I had to have been right enough about something , somewhere, at some point—but even up to now couldn't wrap my head around trying to get a “normal” job, which might be worth the money to be able to escape from my way-too-many-black-people Hellscape, (not that way ‘too many white people' wasn't a thing, but at least was not as abruptly obnoxious—as I had now realized that overt racists often more tactically employed quiet methods of psychological disengagement, rather than flat-out disrespect and cruelty the black-on-black culture had thus far represented. In my mind, however, race had little to do with my actual placement in the world—at least, or so I thought— and though the appearance of where I had been at this point situated was grim or perhaps even bleak, the opposite was actually true; I was now, though strictly under the radar, off the grid, and underground, an extremely accomplished writer, whether anybody knew it or not—and someone did. Low and behold, “The Lopez Kids”, who has been thinking of and new existed were brought the the screen, after a segment featuring Jeannie Aiki had bedazzled me enough to Google her, her familiar voice sparking a curiosity, her own beautiful young one putting a glisten in my eye, along with a tear; I missed my son dearly, and was glad to know that he was with my mother—still worrisome, to say the least, but not as worrisome as he having been with his father, who I knew was fucking up in extreme ways beforehand—but had only been confirmed a few days before, actually exactly one week earlier, as I had toggled off airplane mode just long enough to revive an incoming call from my father—and, having only just the night before having had the dream about Dillon's strange eyes—a dream in which he was not present, but his truck was— promoted me to quickly answer the call, though I had been in the midsts of a whirlwind of transit—a chaotic navigation through unknown territories; he told me that my mother had my son—that my ex husband was unable to care for him any longer. The more right about my ex husband I was, the more peril it felt; I knew my son would be a different person if I had had the ability to raise him. “Something is up.”, I bawled— having seen and heard enough of my own mind scattered across the silver screen— Not only had the Minions eyes reminded me exactly of Dillons—the only dream out of a series of dreams about he, Sonny, and even one with my ex that I had found it important to record—but it was also “National Oreo Day”, which was celebrated with Oreo Doughnuts, appearances from Jeannie Aiko, whose apparent first interview had been with Johnny Depp—who had found his way into my dreams years earlier than nearly anyone else in this lifelong series of bizzare oddities— Ellen DeGenwres discluded—who had more than likely been the first and most random celebrity to make their way into my semi-conciousness; I had never been particularly obsessed or even a fan of Ellen, and yet her appearance in a teenaged dream had stayed with me years into my adulthood—and thiugh during my childhood and adolescent years it had always seemed I had been somehow destined for fame, even before the mockery of the masses and media turned my entire generation inevitably into fame-hungry “artists” , the last few years altogether had been remarkably and even increasingly synchronized; it was as if I had indeed in my lifetime made groundbreaking alterations to the space time continuum. It wasn't until later in the day that I decided to find the document in which I had recorded the dream; I began to laugh reading over my own words as unhinged as it all was—the recording was bizzare and though I hadn't forgotten having the dream itself, I indeed had forgotten many of the details, which of course made me instantly regret not having written down any of the dreams I was having about Sonny—still careful not to let myself feel too much of anything having to with him, even and especially his music, which I only allowed myself to play with purpose, for study. SILVER SCREEN SHOWER SCENE Woah, have you lost your goddamn mind. Yes. I live in a very strange place in the universe. [there are several glitches in the matrix; almost too much to bear.] Very,very strange. What are you doing? Crying? ..I'm not crying… Stop crying, Jesus– –DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BAGELS I HAD TO EAT TO BE SUPACREE? A lot. You look hideous. I am hideous! No arguments, there. Ugh. Lets Go! Try not to look off into the distance with your finger in the air like that; It makes me feel like we're in a comic book or something What if–we are?! Then we're probably about to get our butts kicked before the scene changes or you have to turn the – {NINJAS OUT OF NOWHERE} “The Noir Episdoe” This is business, not war. What's the difference? [beat] Money. HIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Oh My God. I'm so fat. YAH! Why do I always have to fight when i'm fat?! YAH! KI-YAH! — [ROundhouse Kick} HIIIIIII_YAHH. DO you have to say “Hi-yah” every time you deal a fatal blow. –they're not fatal, they're gonna wake up, eventually–YAH. Oh yeah? Even that guy? {Super dead guy} Probably not him. “Probably.” YOU are a PR nightmare. I'm an everything nightmare. Ugh. I just found out what PR even was. LAWYER enters furiously You fucking lunatic! It's sunny out– What did you do this time? UPDATE: The Skrillex Reddit is still the cringiest place on earth. It's so gross. I hate this. Worst place ever. WORST FUCKING PLACE EVER. Fuck. What. We have to go back. Why? What'd you lose? –My dignity. Worst place ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

79: XENA, Palestinian Warrior Princess

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 24, 2023 52:16

Six-time Grammy winner and electronic DJ, Sonny Moore, aka Skrillex, recently released a trove of new music after a nearly decade-long hiatus of full-length solo material. Through a mutual friend, the visionary producer was introduced to a Palestinian vocalist by the name of Nai Barghouti – an acclaimed composer and flute player who's notably famous for creating her own signature fusion of jazz and Middle Eastern soundscapes. But what happens when you blend her angelic, and often times, enchanting voice with a pulsating techno beat and rhythmic, percussive claps? Stay tuned as I SEE U host Eddie Robinson chats candidly with renowned singer-songwriter, Nai Barghouti. We explore the meaning behind their collaborative track called, “XENA,” including a deep dive into Palestinian folklore and the song's cultural message of empowerment. The instrumentalist also describes her unique vocal style and how she's used one of the most traumatic experiences of her childhood, while living in Jerusalem under military occupation, as inspiration for her remarkable musical career.

dj jerusalem grammy jazz beyonce amsterdam palestine palestinians lizzo middle eastern al jazeera skrillex xena warrior princess warrior princess noisia indian music eddie robinson thys sonny moore

Hollywood Is Calling (Again)

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 12, 2023 25:44

BEFORE: I saw a dude at the laundromat with the biggest dick EVER— I mean. It was an accident; I don't know, maybe he's going commando doing his washing, but— The first thing I thought was “What are you doing at the laundromat?” with a dick like that, You would think there would be something you could do within your lifetime that would warrant having your own washer and dryer. I mean really. Then I thought about our interaction, for a moment, and I thought “wait—is that for ME?” We only talked for like, half a second and I didn't notice it at all at first, but then I glanced over and I'm like “WOAH.” “What are you doing at the laundromat?!” Then I thought, No. I don't deserve a dick like that. Not even on my birthday. AND DEN: The trains where I'm at are always full. Always. So I get on the train— This is how you know I have problems—? I get on the train and there's a space, I take it, And there's another guy standing, so I scoot over a bit and I offer him the little space next to me, And he just, shakes his head— At which point, of course, I realize he is huge. Not like, obese— He's just a very large man. He snakes his head, and smiles. ‘Oh, God, he's cute, too' He's just smiling, standing over me— Whatever, But as he continues to stand, towering over me, I realize the worst thing about this is— My eyeline is now at crotch level, And as the train starts moving His huge, massive dick just starts swinging around In my face, at eye level. Oh NO. I'm like ‘Fuck this shit. Ugh!' I couldn't watch. I've been celibate forever—I'm about to get a whole ass rape charge I don't understand why dude with massive dicks wear loose sweatpants, NO boxers. UGH. I hate it. (I love it) UGH. LolS Ugh. So we get to the next stop and I'm just staring up at the ceiling, trying to look at the ground. I can't even, avert my eyes; His dick is obscuring my peripheral vision— FUCK— I'm like, “Please be getting off the train, I can't handle this right now.” He's not getting off the train— I'm obviously not getting off— At all— But nobody's getting off the train. Goddamn. Luckily, though, some other people get off the train so, he takes an open seat across from me, and I'm like, “Well, thank God, I can look forward naturally.” I don't have to pretend I'm looking at the map to see where my stop is at. I don't have to wipe the creepy smirk off my weird face. Thank God. —I didn't think it could get any worse— I was relieved, I'm like “thank you, God” God's like, “Don't thank me yet” Next thing I know this motherfucker pulls out a BOOK. Yes. A book. I didn't know men with big dicks could even read! I didn't know they had to! I'm like, “He can read?!” GOD, the man's gifted! Now I'm really hot and bothered, I'm like “WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE TRAIN?!” HE'S NOT READY FOR LOVEEEEEEE. I'm Not Ready For Love- Promise that's okay. I'm not ready for Dillon Francis. FUCK Dillon Francis. whatever. OH MY GOD. WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?! he'a a 6ft tall ideally attractive manchild with too much money! I meant, why is he on the ground?! OH! I don't know. I think he took something. meanwhile, in a cross-parallel: DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale? I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks res hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's lactose free. —Dillon Francis?! The milk gave it away. The everything gave it away JACK BLACK is high on 1969's LSD SKADOOSH DANNY MCBRIDE shut the fuck up! You are not a fucking panda , you fat motherfucker! Knock it off!!! That's not nice! LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so much student loan debt, I would never get a tax return because the stupid government would just take it away. …They're so stupid. It's a supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. So then (hiccups) it doesn't matter if the stupid government computer takes your tax return away, cause you're—rich. Yeah! Rich people don't pay taxes dummy! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly unsettled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) DIPLO, in a villainous rage nearly murders DILLON FRANCIS, stealing his portal gun and a vast supply of his magic to track down SUPACREE and all of her living incarnations. Is this along the same timeline as Shia La— Fuck this dude's last name for real. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. What would they even tell the kids? “Some of you will grow up to amount to nothing and, and out of those some of you, at least one of you might just have the guts to throw yourself in front of a speeding vehicle which represents the very institution which disregarded your existence entirely in the first place.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. Like heroin through a junkie's veins, the song poured through my Hesh 3's like the golden waters of a sacred fountain of wisdom; it made me reflect on the everythingness of all at once, and I was at bliss, even if only for a moment, briefly recalling how I had almost allowed it to be a bad day—but there were no more bad days, I had decided. Everything was in synchronicity, and exactly as it had to be; everything was going along just the way it was supposed to, and I had nothing to worry about. All was in time with the motion of the great flow of life—then, just suddenly—thinking of such synchronicities, as I pulled out my phone to write in the moment— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' I cocked my head in complete awe to the side ‘Hard flex, Dillon Francis.' It was still hard to compute that such a man had become my literal muse—and though I knew not the exact meaning of the word—I knew what it meant. It was fascinating to me, and astonishing that something so simple could in my state of once fragile and benign vulnerability, be used as a tool to help complete this hypnotism, whatever it was meant for. I wasn't exactly making music, or anything good really—and I felt like I was bleeding money and certainly not making my worth in dollars for all the effort and energy I was spending just getting to work at all, let alone to work out—but there was still this, though I could finally falter to being irreversibly in love with Sonny Moore, or at least who he might have once been ( or the idea of such, anyway—) I did very much think of Dillon quite fondly and quite repetitively through each and passsing day, and oftentimes in my dreamworld, quite uncontrollably and involuntarily, in whatever way I was, it was forever. It didn't seem to matter, and though I purged myself from actually becoming as obsessive as I had once been with Sonny, I simply left it alone; ‘It doesn't matter!' Chal's voice sometimes overcoming my own, in the way that I did now wholeheartedly believe that pretty much nothing mattered, especially my emotions or feelings, which I wished would disappear like the title of the album I had actually written and completed but never had the chance to release, and had just the night before eaten in record time 4 entire vegan cupcakes to myself, —even when I had at least thought to share with my coworkers—a feast which usually took between 24 hours and 3 to four days, if I was moderating correctly. But I hadn't been—I was over stressed from riding busses full of people who didn't care that as the natural empath I had always been, I became gross and dysfunctional as anyone else who rode the bus just off the Las Vegas strip between the hours of 8 PM and 8 AM. Gross. I successfully pretended not to know who deadmau5 wash and upon being asked what I was listening to on the bus, I simply replied ‘progressive house'—and just later that night, as my coworkers, most of whom were about 10 years younger than I was, clammoired about fame and famous Individuals; dead-mau-five came up randomly in conversation; to which I coyfully resigned from correcting the falsity that it once had “actually” been the correct way to prounounce the artist's name, and that he had “actually” changed it—and still, later on, when for the first time over the loudspeakers, a song by deadmau5 (besides the new kx5 track) came on, nobody but me could seem to recognize that it was him playing—and though I had heard the song by now at least hundreds of times, I couldn't name it…which embarrassed me, and I failed to even look upon the screen to fact-check or correct myself—it was deadmau5, it was good, and at least it wasn't Skrillex… —who had also, though just behind deadmau5, also “coincidentally” come up in the conversation—this time less sarcastically forging a “who the fuck is that?”—of course, only to be met with what had to be a good minute and a half of my gullible coworkers explaining to me who Skrillex was, as I shrugged and nodded unassuminglu as if I didn't want to shoot myself in the foot just to dance to the tune of my own funural music. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi Are you sleeping? Ooh. I'm sorry. Back to the Diverging lateral pull down, st a weight that looked too heavy, but was actually almost too light. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! Flashback: SUPACREE is swimming when caught in a rogue wave, quickly transforming into a whale, before washing up on shore and transforming back into her human self, right before the eyes of the navy seals team. What the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] Damn, what's gonna happen now?! I don't know. Ask Dillon Francis. What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I dunno. Apparently a lot. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [CC in a high intensity workout-induced trance merges with the character DUFF as she locks her legs across the rotary torso machine. ] DUFF is paralyzed from the waist down after crash landing feet-first from her pod; She has landed in present day earth, first spotted by millions as a UFO; upon rescuing her from the fiery crash, recovering the remains of her futuristic vehicle raises questions from the whole world about her true origins and mission's purpose—however, stricken wirh Amnesia, she only recalls that her name is DUFF, and has very few memories preceding her discovery—it is clear that she is a human, and a high-ranking military trained space explorer—but remembers nothing of her own origins. It is suspected that she may indeed be a time traveler from the distant future. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [DUFF is caught in a lucid dream; the original SUPACREE is in a coma after her failed suicide attempt—their worlds collide.] Beyoncé's voice looked to me as if butterflies had long streams of silk woven wings, fluttering eloquently in hues of fluorescent pink and painted shades of rose-tinted streaking blues, auroras of bubblegum entertaining with breezy mellow waves of yellow and flooding bursts of bright purple—a pure joy in my ear sight, which meant nothing to the world, but everything to me. Creating literal auroras I had only ever before seen in the frigid arctic night skies of Alaska, sometimes I simply had to close my eyes and breathe in deeply the fluid and sometimes glowing and velvety cascades—more so pronounced than the ones I had observed in finally linking kaskade's unique electronic sound to his name—probably because rather than having come from a synthesizer, it was Beyoncé's naturally unnatural voice—and by unnatural, I only meant that it was such a singularity that divinity itself had to have put her hands into allowing such a phenomenon to exist. I had indeed fallen In love with the talent and aura of this too-perfect southern belle—but one doesn't simply aspire to be Beyoncè at the ripe old age of 30; a lifetime of dedication to artistry could only result in such an immaculate perfection in performance—perfection I humbly honored, but tried my best not to crave. [CC, on the brink of being BLŪ but not having yet arrived in the true belief of her own accomplishments or potential. emotionally stuffs her face unforgivingly with Oreo cookies; a silent, friendly ghost, the ghost of the late great COOKIE MONSTA seats himself softly beside her on the bed. Another guardian Angel.] What up, Cookie Monster. I Am Cookie Monster— ugh— [Realizing she is once again confronted with a ghost DJ, after having been visited by Avicii and I_O now years earlier, but still an ever-present memory.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [He shrugs as she stuffs another cookie in her mouth, literally overflowing with cookie and reeling in the discomfort of double-stuffiness. Ughhhhh—I cant feel my face. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. But it seemed like I would never make dubstep—working two jobs, riding the bus—and despite my sweet tooth, my shrinking waistline and quest for physical perfection in the peak of my absolute loneliness, distrust for the world, and disdain for the injustice of society. All it seemed like I did really have that was mine, was deadmau5 blasting through my ears at any given moment as my dirty little secret—Oreos, my synestetic facination with Beyoncé, and, of course, one of the best athletic clubs in the world at my disposl, given that I had the time or energy to use it. Altogether self-serving, señf-soothing, and best of all self loathing—navigating life had become more outwittinglu experiencing infinite death thsn not—an endless ego death in the confines of my own limitations and judgements. I had put myself in a shelf entirely—and now, I didn't know what I was writing for, but I was still writing. Even without making music, music seemed to make itself out of the words that could connect with my broken and tired spirit in whatever synchronization it took to type out a song, or a novel, or a suicide letter, or a screenplay—whatever it was. I didn't know. And… ‘It doesn't matter. COOKIE MONSTA fades away into the reminiscent whisper of a ghost, as CC falls asleep, hugging a pillow and still clutching an Oreo in one hand and her crystals in the other. The room spins as she fades into the dreamworld, lost in her self and the world within. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

god jesus christ american babies hollywood disney mother las vegas men work real mexico dj marvel rich stars mind army jewish attack fbi student park teach alaska touch beyonce ufos oprah winfrey matrix golden legends scary calm demons cia blame honestly fuck tom cruise spark riding wtf blow i am knock guatemala irs call of duty warm bitch gross individuals shut hulk grass marry goddess copyright fix thank god nah shut up gta neck darling secret service oreo io cc feds us government jack black nevermind amnesia hunted woody harrelson cajun rugs avicii mark ruffalo shia labeouf duff cupcakes google search bpm skrillex haunts mmm mmorpgs oh my god morpheus goddamn nautilus pringle cookie monster abort yah imaginary friends pasquale jeeps stop it chal benny benassi marry me dillon francis synesthesia ohh heh silent partner black parade sunn diverging omniverse bangarang yarg agh i guess periwinkle shut the fuck up i am god yo ho ho hesh quasimoto lvac cookie monsta drake work mazunte sonny moore

-Post Season Soliloquy.

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 11, 2023 29:03

Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny Five seconds of poop in my ears. ‘Strange' I had been listening to the same thing nearly every day for months; All of a sudden, it scraped against my senses in the worst way possible; ‘I don't want to hear this.' –and, I really didn't. For the first time in a very long while, I didn't want to hear deadmau5–worse than that, I didn't like the way it sounded, all of a sudden—-and it was, very sudden, as I had just been listening to it earlier in the night (and earlier through the week, month, year–so on.) It was astonishing to actually have found something I could listen to with infinite replay value; though I'd decidevely been spending my peaceful moments in silence, or as close to silence as I could possibly ever come, deadmau5 was a close second-to-none wash away of whatever I was thinking or feeling, and into a trance-like state of autonomy, without doing much else than moving in any direction or another, monotonously functioning at minimum capacity. Perhaps it wasn't only that I didn't want to hear anything around me, but perhaps also that I didn't want to think or feel much of anything, and somehow his music was good for that. Over the PA system at work rang a tune I may or may not have heard before, but was yet somehow familiar–perhaps my sudden onset aversion to deadmau5 was programmed for none other than this, either to quickly jot down my experience, or even this–to have finely focused on the song playing over the loudspeakers in that moment, as I often used my headphones to distract from whatever it was that was playing at the gym–more often than not, either way-too-happy or way-too-sad white girls singing about whatever the result of their circumstances were, and not that the rules were any different for the songs played by boys, but it all always did irritatingly remind me of the out-of-placeness I always felt being myself, excluded from being the muse or the ingenue in any musician's world, and yet also typically offset by the crude and off putting hip-hop or rap which was occasionally played, where black or brown girls were on display as artifacts, rather than women–or perhaps, a combination of the two–which my untraditional body typ forbade me from being, and so was bread a distinct jealousy and bitterness stemming from anything which might have been played besides Beyonce, who I ha begun to admire with a shimmering bedazzlement, or anything which might catch my ears production wise–typically Dj/producer's I'd heard of, but sometimes hadn't–and this particular rift, which gripped me in a different type of way than usual, pulling and persuading me to reach for my phone and hurriedly Shazam it, before it changed back into something less attractive. Low-an behold, it was finally the angel I had asked for long ago, perhaps a stretch or perhaps a sign because I needed it to be– It was Avicii's collaboration with Imagine Dragons, Heart Upon My Sleeves–which I knew nothing about, but pondered whether it was made before, or after his death–I half-smiled, and as I had just so happened to have finished an entry of The Festival Project outlining a shapeshifting competition throughout the inner-and-outer realms, a gentle nudge to keep moving forward, whether coincidence or not–the next person to walk through the door just so happened to look enough like Tim to force a begrudging nod to my own imagination's power, and whether or not it meant anything in that moment, I knew that my plea into the cosmic heavens to help me make sense of the massive and altogether unprintable, vastly chaotic and seemingly organizable Festival Project as a whole was somehow being answered–somehow, but I knew neither the some or the how, and rather effectively hated the entirety of my existence, which was just to work and workout with no one and nothing of my own as of yet to make anything worth it, in the name of love or otherwise. The title of itself was reminiscent of the tattoo I still owed myself, for one reason or another, but the biggest reason being something about it was crystalized into my being as was the stone I had forgotten to carry on this very night; It hadn't mattered much in awhile–I didn't need any totems to be constantly reminded of Dillon Francis, or of anyone or anything I loved for that matter– it was a a serious enough affliction that it ad at least crossed the barrier between obsession and into a mere infatuation, though listening to any of his music was out of the question, just as it was so to attend any of his appearances. Gazing into the depths of my Google Documents, however, it was duly noted that he had somehow weaseled his way into my infinite creativity, forever immortalized in the very least sense as a character to the never-ending Saga which was The Festival Project–still, something lurking deep within me glossed and glamored on finding a suitable distraction from having to involuntarily fall prey to my own fantasies, and victim to my own hormones rushing towards peak-fertility and growing in my celibacy and abstinence, ever more painful with each passing day. Without being too attached to the idea of attachment itself, I was on the prowl for anything that was anything, without having to use Tinder as a disastrous medium; I wanted a real-life person, to meet in real-life and have real-sex with–knowing that as soon as I did have a distraction, these lucid fantasies and sexual obsessions would fade away into a laughable, delusional afterthought. My baby fever could easily be traded for a passable career in entertainment, working hard enough at anything that I loved that it would seem silly to reproduce in the midsts of any of it–it was a raw and solid fact that the life I truly craved was one that Dillon Francis and any of his romanticized counterparts had already lived, besides what I was sure was a million-mile long list of women in every city on every continent imaginable; I knew by this point in my life, that I would always be startlingly monogamous and prone to falling in love with love itself, wanting really just to be best friends with benefits which would solidify the foundation for a perfect marriage, however–the entertainment industry lifestyle provided endless opportunities for polyamoury and experimentation, none of which I felt like I really wanted, but also hadn't had the chance to experience–while a closed-marriage with children seemed like a priority, I had always been less than ideally attractive, and poor to boot–were I to reach into the realms of actual success and wealth, would I be as unmovable a force as I felt I was? I thought so, but I thought too much– and therefore the infinite fabric of the world I was constantly building up and breaking down around me was just-so crucially-that–infinite–as were any other creative divinity's exploration through time and space that I knew of, and therefore I carefully abandoned the notion of being anybody's ‘One', r my awful ex, who I considerably might end up back with, once whatever dumb girls he was preoccupying time with got the same lesson I had. And while I prayed to find a love as deep and as pure like that as it had been in the beginning, I knew to a certain extent that after all was said and done, it couldn't exist. I was too old, too grown, too broken to believe in fairytales, even if I was living and writing in one–I had to separate myself from the protagonist princess, just as I finally had separated Dillon Francis and Sonny Moore from their respective anti-hero Kings. He's a beautiful person (That doesn't exist) You see: It erases the picture All by itself An etch e sketch Kalideacope Ant farm disaster— If this is what you're after, Call back next Saturday, (Or ever after) After I've said enough After supper, After the weather passes, After the sabbath, After never collapses, After an autograph, I swear to laugh, I laugh just to forget I ever practiced math, Or magic, Never purchased meth for mattresses, Remember what a pastor is, But not the taste of Grass fed— Brass candle lit dinners or Tin roofs and Tinder Or dinosaurs, Gore at the core, It's no wonder you're broke And so miserable Ah, look; I broke it Remember the world that you're on; It revolves all on nothing, Removing an uncle from cousins or Curse marks on eyelids or, Wonder what Billie Ellish did to deserve it , Or is it just the white supremacists lasts hurrah, What a bargain: The world all at war over dollars and water I stopped at Applebees frozen and wondered “How long has it been since this all fell apart?” After PETRUTHEIO kills FARRO during the triad lover's quarrel, ending its swift and unpredictable categorization as a briefly onceprofezied courtiers quartetC'EET Iin a fit of forceful grief and rage unleashes an undiscovered trasnformation into an omniscient and devastating diety—a Goddorce which unearths the deadly forces of C'esme't's true powers, overruling the ascended mastery and dividing the kingdom of ascensicia from the higher realms of truth and knowledge; the divides the resulting underworlds into The Upper Realms, The Lower Realms, and the outer realms—casting the inhabitants of the kingdom into unknown and unseen dimensions of darkness, and defending the world into chaos; she Binds Gían and Petruthieo together to suffer the tragedy heartbreak and pain of her existence together, before banishing them respectively to the upper and lower realms, then vanishing without a trace into the unknown; Unbeknownst to the now defended and divided kingdoms, now on the brink of destruction war, famine, and chaos—she journeys into unknown realms in search of Farro, his last words having professed his true and pure love for C'esme't which would allow him to rest peacefully; however, betrayed and deceived by both Petrutheio and Gían, pursues Farro to create and build a new world from their once deeply hidden and newly discovered passionate love for one another. Woah. Yeah, I know. This is what you get writing deadmau5. I get a lot writing deadmau5; But this was deadmau5, 4 days with no sleep, 6 hours a day at the gym and roughly 1000MG of caffeine in a 24 hour period. Trademark. You doing ok? NoX. SometimesC, things get complicated. Is the C silent in Skrillex? that was deadmau5. Is that a language, too? 010000100001000010001 No, I'm just fucking tired. Where's Dillon Francis? I—uh— DILLON FRANCIS IS TRAPPED INSIDE OF A GIANT DISCO BALL. I nearly forgot about the disco ball piñata. Was it a piñata? GERALD WHOSE THE PIÑATA NOW, BITCH?! Gerald is the masked banana?! Idk anymore, I want a houseX. HOMELESS, USA. Is this hell? YesZ. What did I do?! You're just—shittyZ OhZ And nobody loves youS Ok. SOS 911! EMERGENCY. Shit, is Skrillex ok? What's that look on his face? [skrillex] Oh no. Hm. Something is Wong. Mmm Sweet tangerine citrus Cherry mist twist in He said, “I'm just a man” But you're a god, from where I stand You're. God, from where I'd standing You're a god, from where I am {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

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[FINALE I.] (SEASON 6 - ACT III, PART II)

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 31:23

SEASON 6 ACT III - Part II Oh no. I told you, this was a bad idea DONT CHECK THE— It's too late. “A Writing Assignment” Fuxk. This is bad. I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THIS. Well, it's Brooklyn—there's gonna be a fire escape and a rooftop. This is creeper level 9000 Whatever. Where'd the bass go? I've lost my sense of direction I'm mad I can't have you, It's candid I shouldn't be out here like this l I should have gone to Manhattan Are you mad, man— At the mad hatter! At the course of action in this rendition fuxk, it is Skrillex. I just went to look for Kayla Lauren. Got hit with the other one instead. “I insist, do it this way” Better get a good picture, Better get a good fix on your riches Maybe this is why my scar was lighting up all morning Maybe that's the reason I was off. Without my phone all day. Maybe that's the reason I was fasting. Good Goddamnit man, You're awful good at acting Awful good at grabbing ass, And awful good at dancing Awful good at making friends And awful good at First things first, And first things last, and after— Amsterdam I never guessed where York was at I never asked I never asked I never asked FUCK. What, man. I think Skrillex listens to my podcast. Well, that's, uh. Fuck that. Fuxk that. Fuck that. Well, that's one hell of a flex. It's a pop up. I just had a dream about surfing. Better stop, God. There might be a show for every day of the week. I'm still weak in the knees. I don't know what I need. I'm still a mothafuckin Skrillex fiend. Have a nice dream. Have some ice cream. There's the ice queen. That's been three times since my eye started bleeding. I thought I was just an MC, Or a DJ, I might take the soul train But don't have a ticket Thanks. Now whose the dick. Well , I'm just taking pictures. How's Dillon Francis. Now that's a priority. I can't ShaZam from out here, you know. I called my dad. I thought you had no family. Same thing as having no home, or, No where to go, I'm no homer, I'm sitting here, hopeless, outside or your show— Not hoping to see you, or anything I'll be you, inside my dreams, Sequels for everything Sequences, sequins and diamon rings, Sequoias and I still have feelings for I still have feelings for Feelings for everything This is the weakest I've been since I needed you 2019 was the year that the hero Was broke Well. That's it. What. That's the whole thing. Can't be the whole thing Do you want to take a half, or a whole thing Do you want to wear the pants, or the whole ring Should I take a flight to France, or to Oakland Stuck in a chokehold, God, I'm too old for this God, I just want to go home; Here's a long rope to hang your self with— Now I'm locked up in homeroom I lost it all once, got it all at the pawnshop For $96 dollars— The original price tag, of course, read $115 though. I honestly thought I never wanted to see Skrillex again, but as it turned out— as I was, of course, trying to connect with closure, snooping into Instagram just to find evidence or romance, which I did—not that I needed anything more than a glance to ensure my own insanity—and it was that, insanity. Don't do it. —but it's Valentine's Day. Don't do it. Goddamnit, I hate this. I hadn't been up this early without not having gone to bed since I arrived on the east coast; I woke up promptly around 8 with lyrics in my brain and music in my head; it had been a long and strange night, with no dreams at all—at least none that I could remember, and it had been long since I had woken up with anything in my mind besides fear and panic. I refused to turn on my phone, quickly reaching for my notebook and a pen before the song would leave my mind—I had a lot of work to do, and for whatever reason I actually felt like doing it; I at least had the train ride to Manhattan to think about what I should be thinking about, or to unravel from whatever I was wrapped up in, even if it was just myself. This is not a coincidence This is not a drill; Of course, now— I feel like the villain; To swallow Dillon like a pill But In the end, though, Nothing's real, And nothing changes, Nothing will I should be working on my will I think of jumping— What a thrill I'm busy thumping, humphing Rumbling, mumbling about something And someday never comes, But Sunday does, And Sonny shows up Monday— I feel dumb, and awkward, suddenly— I'm just an awkward cunt; That's what the prophet wrote Upon the wall In Brooklyn, Out on Broadway, Where I was, Before the fall off; I gave my dad a call, And then my son— That's all that love was I showed up with my whole heart in my pocket What a long walk; What an alter, Whatever the sun does When he doesn't watch I'm Sasquatch, But it's water, starch, And crunches ‘This is not a coincidence.' I had spend the day before, valentines say, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thiugh I had thought of another extension, which would l of course diminish the last of my money, but at least warrant another couple nights safe and warm. I hadn't made any sense to look for a normal job-not only would the process or getting hired take up all the rest of mh time, but it would be if. Purse two to theee weeks before I would receive any kind of paycheck at all—and with such little time left living indoors, It didn't make sense to try. I had been stranded in New York since addict f on the 4th, and though it had nearly been two weeks, I hadn't any luck in landing any gigs or performances. Jetro of course was still waiting with Blame Society records in Rome for my arrival, I hadn't even thought to notify him of the lack of such, as I partially blamed even alerting him that I was on my way via instragrwm for the flight delay that had caused me to miss my train, which of course caused me to miss my plane, landing me stuck in a hostile, cruel, and homeless USA. I carry, or Hold no stones for you; Haven't I a heart left It's the darkest of all the hours, And here you are, again— Not near, or far, But a bet is a bet, An eye for an eye And a head for a head And you're so far ahead, I've yet to catch up yet I have a gift for your daughter, Often, I've thought of her Lost in New York, No glass houses, It's just brick and mortar She calls me retarded, my mother So I haven't called her I just keep running north I just keep running my mouth on this podcast I just keep thinking that someone's my long lost love, at last You dirty bastard I'm an asshole: Handsome, Hanzel is In case it mattered Everyone's a fucking actor Look at that girl And look at that And look at that And look at that girl And look at that And look at that You took my whole world Turned it upside down And bottled up my love l You never told me where the bottle was But showed me what a model was And after that I fell in love with Something about doing drugs and Coming up with love to give to others Turning pigeons into doves And wishing I could just be nothin' —cause my life was fuckin loveless —and I thought you were my husband (Fuck Kayla Lauren; But I guess I gotta love her, Cause she's human) I took my time getting ready, no time, actually, in comparison to how slowly I had been moving throughout the week, and although I had been to the gym daily, I was worn, and tired—and coming up empty on all fronts. It was 10:14 or so by the time I finally made my way to the subway, ‘I'm still off', I thought— but not only couldn't I depressively sulk and lay in bed the way I thought I would or even maybe wanted to, I had been lifted out of my sleep and on my way to Equinox with a startling force—though I shouldn't have at all been suprised; this, whether consciously or not, I realized, had always happened when it came to the matter of the mysterious Sonny Moore. ‘Fuck' It was late evening Monday before the anxiety started to set in, and for some reason had been the reason I had decided to turn on my phone, to extend my reservation another couple days, buying time in comfort and warmth, on the freedom of privacy, which I had done nothing with but rest and try to be whole again, whatever that was—and whatever it meant. I had been cooking for the first time in months, stretching, and meditating the ways that only seemed to come natural when having my own time and space —and though it wasn't wholly my own, it was clean, peaceful, and quiet—included it's very own space heater, and was decorated in my favorite color blue. My host was an actual working professional who had succeeded in the entertainment industry—which of course made me jealous, but I at the very least had done my best to network and perhaps nitpick an easygoing cash job out of it “I have some connections”, she had piped—and so, with that in mind, I had sent her my links; and of course, with my extension being the reason for even having turned on my phone, was quick to check my text messages to see if there had been any movement with the booking agent she had supposedly sent my information to. “I gave him your Instagram, and so he'll probably reach out to you through there it he's interested.” I hated Instagram and it seemed to hate me, even before the devastating discovery of what a Kayla Lauren was, it had always seemingly been algorithmicallu programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated Seinfeld, admittedly out of bitter loneliness—the guys I seemed to like and fall for had always seemed to go for that type—white, skinny, blue eyes or some variation of the “ideal” standard of beauty, especially by Californian standards—and so I had always taken long breaks from it, shielding myself from self hatred: my absolute theory becoming that Instagram was an algorithm built for population control, preying on the weak and insecure, and probably attributing to more suicides than anyone had noticed or cared for. Lil biiiiiitz You know what else is weird about New York. People eat on the subway. They eat in the train station. They just— It's kind of gross; at least to me. Of course, the trains in New York are a lot cleaner. Sometimes the station even smells like bleach. That's so cool. Still don't want to eat in there. That's weird. INT. CHAUNCEY STREET. SUNDOWN | VALENTINES DAY BLŪ waits patiently for Instagram to download, sighing heavily as she waits; As it has finished, she rolls her eyes and opens the app, squinting and pursing her lips as she quickly checks for messages: only adds, nothing important. BLŪ Of course, no messages. Psh. She exits the app, thinking for a moment before re-opening it. Don't do it. SEARCH: Sk— INSTAGRAM skrillex You never learn. BLŪ watches the story, for the most part, unenthused—until TONIGHT: BROOKLYN NEW YORK. BLŪ AGH! The phone flies from her hand and onto the bed as she seizes, flying back and hitting the wall with a thud—then dramatically backing up into the closet, closing both doors and exclaiming in the darkness BLŪ (CONT'D) I'm gonna die like this. OH NO. HE'S IN BROOKLYN?! RIGHT NOW?! SKRILLEX I'M IN BROOKLYN. RIGHT NOW. WHY WOULD HE BE IN BROOKLYN. I'M IN BROOKLYN. (heavy New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (even heavier New York accent) I'M IN BROOKLYN. (*hawks loogie, spits*) [very ugly cry] I was expecting to see some cheesy picture like I had just a couple years before—or however long it had been. So much time had passed and I had no doubt there was still more and that I wouldn't be seeing Sonny tonight, or even anytime soon—still, I was headed towards the rooftop to collect my stones, and though the tickets were sold out and there were said to be none at the door, I was headed for the train before I even knew why, or what was happening. Well, he's out of the basement. BITCH GET OUT THE ATTICK I'm in the closet now, I had a heart attack, I'm in a panic You need a manual? This is a stick shift This is some sick shit Click click, bitch I got witches in automatic Automatic It was 11:11 AM; I had never been to Manhattan to early before, at least not from Brooklyn; I knew my way to Equinox Sports club easily by now, without getting lost, or much hassle; it was an easy one hour train ride—and this morning, even easier; the writing came automatically, rather than forced, as it had been, and the ride went by almost too quickly, despite a full train and a flurry of emotions I worked heartfly to keep in check. ‘This changes nothing.' , I thought, more awestruck than anything and trying to convince myself nothing had changed, though something certainly had. Manhattan looked even better in the daylight—clear and sunny, and even a bit warm; babies in strollers and dogs on leashes and for a moment or two, I might have even forgotten I was homeless, dropping 2.5 Jimmy Fallons on a piping hot coffee at the shop I had always passed, but was never open. I would be at Sports Club until close, as I had planned to be all week but had always fallen short of, struck with jet lag and crippling depression at the same time—but today, and even if it was for the best that I couldn't seem to get exactly what I wanted, If even just out of sheer disbelief, I had at least been shaken out of my tomb, if only for a moment, and into work mode, still grieving the self I had lost in the collision of stardust and superstardom, fame, and misfortune—tears still on the brink of rolling down my cheek, and the cost of sicccess a grueling question burning somewhere between my still bleeding heart, and somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘Its like a fucked up cheaper by the dozen' And I still haven't frgotten about Dillon Francis, But Sonny seems to fuck me up a bit, —and then some It's just an addendum: I flipped the script and went dumb Here's my number, Christopher Columbus; And a bumper sticker Still a nigger Still a nothing trying to make it bigger Still a little off my rocker, Like I bought, at Cracker Barrel I'm still scared of marriage, Mind my manners, like Harriet Tubman Somebody's up to somethin' Better suck it up and get some crunches in Before I go to lunch And jump from too high up Or hang off of some bridge Just to get to the dimension Where it's Skrillex in the picture With Dillon standing next to him, And I'm just in the middle, Front and center With an Emmy Win An Oscar nomination, And a Tony, where my Grammy is: A curio cabinet I had custom fashioned for my bathroom; Next to the magazine rack, actually— Where I'm on every cover wearing fabrics I myself imagined, shining like a dragon eating laffy taffy; Fuck, I Suck at mathematics, —But I finally got my masters degree. Nice. Jeez, It would be tragic to have it all go up in ashes Lighting matches just to get the smell of gas to shatter— Or to dissipate, I estimate I'm 40 minutes late, But if I make it, I'll get naked on the plane, For heaven's sake. What the fuck is this. Some Sunnï Blū shit, I guess. “I guess.” I'm still mad at the world, I'm still mad at your girl, for being better than me So mad I could hurl, But I'm still fasting, actually; It's intermittent, In a minute, I might turn to Skrillex, Talk to Fred Again Then take some medicine And finally finish, like- “I did it” Oh look, it's Fred. Yep. Oh. Hi. It's Fred Again. That's me. Oh. Hey there. It's Fred..Again. Fucking a. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Alright, Jimmy—you sick sonofabitch. JIMMY FALLON —just kill me already. JIMMY THE MOBSTER WHERE IS IT. JIMMY FALLON Where is what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU KNOW WHAT. JIMMY FALLON I don't know what. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —my medallion. JIMMY FALLON You were wearing a medallion? JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'M ALWAYS WEARING MY MEDALLION JIMMY FALLON How am I supposed to know that JIMMY THE MOBSTER there's only me and you here— JIMMY FALLON you know what they say—there's a crowd— JIMMY THE MOBSTER Listen, Jimmy Fallon, you illiterate motherfucker! JIMMY FALON I'm not illiterate; I'm very well read. JIMMY THE MOBSTER oh yeah! What was the last book you read? JIMMY FALLON … JIMMY THE MOBSTER …that's what I thought. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER grabs JIMMY FALLON by the shoulders abrasively JIMMY THE MOBSTER (CONT'D) WHERE'S MY MEDALLION, JIMMY!?! JIMMY FALLON I DON'T—KNOW! JIMMY THE MOBSTER YOU DO KNOW! JIMMY FALLON NO, I DONT—you blindfolded and kidnapped me! JIMMY THE MOBSTER I kidnapped you?! C'mon' you're like 50- JIMMY FALLON I'm 42. JIMMY THE MOBSTER —I snatched you. “Snached” hm. I like that. MEANWHILE, in HOLLYWOOD This is a serious job… It's a job. A serious job. I'll take it. Wtf is this dude into. Whippets and women— Like every-other Hollywood nigga Stop using the n'word. It makes while people uncomfortable. Imagine what it's like being called the n word like it's your name. FLASHBACK BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA PRODUCER YOURE JUST A NIGGER SLAVE. (That actually happened.) Anyway. As you can see, or might have guessed, I'm desperate for attention, Sonny followed me to Brooklyn, But never even mentioned it: I should have figured he was listening, When I heard Renaissance, And lost the mixtape that I did That Skrillex took it off of Glad It didn't win the Grammy I'd be mad if it had. Cause I was on it! Not Exactly. Swear to God, I might have lost it, Heard applause and started walking Nodded off, And woke up in a coffin Coughs, What a photographer. DILLON FRANCIS has been buried alive, inside or a coffin. I love this scene. He really is a good actor. (In my mind.) Dude, you are creep level 1 Billion. Whatever, he followed me to Brooklyn. I am you. You know what, That is something I would do if I was stupid rich and… And what. I had fallen in love with Sonny Moore, not at first sight—but at first glance; it seemed he had been quite literally tossed into my broken and shattered world, and— What, I'm an animal! Did you fuck? Should I have? I would have. I know you would have. I'm not Annie; She is pretty, and fun; An addict, an alcoholic And formerly, my other half When I was one, But now I'm half of half of half And then some; I've been numb, I've never felt like this, Since I've been struck. I guess if I drink, I'll be a big drunk; And If I die before I ever wake I'll be in big luck Honestly, After Kayla Lauren, I didn't give a fuck Been thinking of jumping, Then something hit me like a big truck I love eating. There was some sort of event on the basketball court at Sports Club; I had been there already two entire hours, and spent most of it in the sauna, still followed by coughing people, I knew I still wasn't out or the heap of madness or broken from any spell or curse it might have been — and it wasn't fair, I wasn't fair skinned, and it didn't make a difference at all what had happened; I still wanted to end it. I'm losing my mind again Losing a light again Losing my light, But if I run to find it I just might I just might —I'll fly like a kite. He's trying to kill me. He's not doing a bad job. Don't know what i'm working towards; Don't know what i'm running for— Don't know about Sonny Moore (He's not for me;) Or so I thought before, therefore— I take metrormin I'm still homeless, Searching for a metaphor, An aquafir, And somewhere to plug my phone in (Better than being ignored and drinking tap water, On the fourth floor) Housing is a human right I hate this place It's just not right I'm sick of fighting I'm not racist; Just not fucking white enough To run for red and right; I guess I'm blū then. I could be crying in the sauna. But I guess I'm writing you a message It's just a bullet in my head It's just another lesson It's just another test, at best It's just an algorithm; Go back to my nest And rest for just a minute This is season 6 of a Legends, Now I'm turning to a villain I keep coming up with Skrillex, But I have my heart to Dillon Here's a tiny violin; It's getting violent since intermission Ultraviolet light, And impolite fixations, Revelations, Realizations, Revolutions, Reservations Let's set a date then— Is it fucking coughs, Or is it Satan? I hate this. You would want to jump in front of a train, too If for years. No matter what you did or where you went People came around you and just started coughing That's such an evil fucking thing to experience For someone who never wanted anything But to be loved But was always too fat Too black And just altogether too anything to ever experience love, joy, and happiness the wayoh other people do And so, it must be hell Cause all I do is love, and love, and love And just get shit on And coughed at And called retarded And falling short of success I'm not heartless I just carry rocks around And get followed by coughing bodies My life fuckin sucks, man I just want to turn the simulation off, And on again I just want to take a long nap, And wake up in the arms of a man I just want a booking manager, And an orgasm. And a ham sandwhich, And my land back, And to be happy Or maybe like half a xanex Wanna throw myself down on the train tracks I want a can of spam and pancakes Like breakfast made by my dad I want to hold hands, And a whole home, with a landing pad Or maybe just an address, and a gas lamp Or a campfire Timestamp that. This is the third and final act. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

[The Last Episode] - (shit show(s) in description)

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 8, 2023 22:44

[The Festival Project Presents: {ENTER THE MULTIVERSE} THE LEGEND OF… THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES GERALD'S WORLD & ASCENSION DEATHWISH LEGENDS THE INSOMNIAC {ENTER THE MULTIVERSE} SEASON 6 - ACT II - PART II I almost left my Elfbar in Raton, But I couldn't let go; It just held on. I had to leave my skateboard back at home , But now I'm gone. Now i'm gone Now I'm sick to my stomach, I didn't want this Now I'm so sick to my stomach; I didn't want it And all the non believers, And all the sinners, saints together on a train, wishing to be rich or famous; Freedom, Plain and simple *very scary music* I warned you; No bloodshed in LA. [A single drop of blood hits the pavement with a splash, in a vivid slow motion close up of the gritty Downtown Los Angeles sidewalk] FLASHBACK; Have you ever heard of a blood oath? I knew something was wrong with that girl. It's not just that girl; It's this place. People do a lot of things to get by in LA. What is “get by” You're never gonna make it. Well, then; I was never going to anyway–so it really doesn't matter. “The Golden Girl” gal·lant adjective 1.(of a person or their behavior) brave; heroic."she had made gallant efforts to pull herself together" Similar: brave courageous valiant valorous bold plucky daring fearless intrepid heroic lionhearted stouthearted doughty mettlesome great-spirited honorable noble manly manful macho dashing daredevil death-or-glory undaunted unflinching unshrinking unafraid dauntless indomitable gutsy spunky ballsy have-a-go venturous Opposite: cowardly 2.(of a man or his behavior) giving special attention and respect to women; chivalrous."a gallant gentleman came over and kissed my hand" Similar: chivalrous gentlemanly courtly courteous respectful polite attentive gracious considerate thoughtful obliging mannerly gentle Opposite: discourteous rude nounARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ a man who pays special attention to women."he launches himself into a gallant's career of amorous intrigue" Similar: suitor wooer admirer worshipper beau sweetheart lover love beloved boyfriend young man man friend escort swain paramour verbARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ (of a man) flirt with (a woman)."Mowbray was gallanting the Polish lady" Gee' Mo had his hands all over me, which made me uncomfortable—but I had sworn solemnly to myself never to ‘tell' on any man again—and neither would I call them out, or make objections to their actions in any way; the age told story had always been ‘her word against mine ‘, making the woman or victim in question appear weak, and of course, untrustworthy—whatever that meant anyway, and not that any of his attempts were hostile, He knew I was openly celibate, and supposedly respected that—however, I just found it best to wholly keep him in the friend zone and keep the notion to myself, as he still seemed to have some kind of hope for something greater between us—and though I did consider him more than a friend, I considered him more like family than anything, his own blurred lines a shadow that had become too great to perhaps any longer be colegues—at least for now—especially that I was fleeing the US once more in complete secrecy—and though there had been some good work between the two of us, I wasn't equalling to his vibration anymore, his music sounded strange and off, and the words that would come to my mind were less easy than pushed or forced, and repetitive in sound and style. I knew that I was leaving, but had refused to tell anybody, especially Gee', who may have raised questions as to where I was going—something that seemed to be good to keep quiet entirely, as even earlier in the day I had tried to give my tour list to Equinox to see if I could bypass upgrading my membership to Destination by giving them a list of dates and cities I would visit and being given access to the visitors list in each city—I was however persuaded into not doing so and keeping my Desrination Stetus, as after attempting to give my home club my list of cities and dates, even against my own instinct and better judgement, the manager dawned a look in his eye that said “just lay low”, and as low as I could lay, I didn't know how long it would last with the onslaught of things I would have to do on my phone and computer over wifi during the long traveling time. Still, I wanted to travel lightly—and perhaps it was Divine intervention itself in the form of God when my $80 Nike backpack broke, leaving me scurrying for a new one that I could afford simply with the remaining balance on my gift card—luckily, I did find one that presumably fit my needs available for pickup, of course, even less high quality than the oversized “training” bag I had purchased just a few months before, not realizing that 32 Liters would be more than enough space, hard to fit under an airplane seat, and Ill-fitting the more petite I would become, or even as my weight fluctuated, just awkward looking in general—and though it was a very attractive bag, I had always thought it to be a little too ‘loud' and ostentatious, though I had become attracted somehow after being unable to return it as I had thought to when I had first ordered it, receiving the bag just before leaving Las Vegas, which I would return to the following day to retrieve the drum machine I had pawned as a matter of absolute survival. INT. TRAIN. WHENEVER. The best part about riding the train is… CUT TO: A FIREY PLANE CRASH CUT BACK TO: You can't fall out of the sky. (Ya.) SHIA LA— Fuck it. SHIA LABEOUF IS: “THE AIR MARSHALL” Ohh, what's this one about? Oh my God. I wasn't writing, and so I must have been in some way dead-I wasn't feeling even a whisp of inspiration, anymore—only annoyance, and slight suffering. The train ride had gone all too quickly, and though I had started chipping away at some projects, there was nothing finished. Though the inhuman vibration and hostile tone of LA was long behind me, something did linger on a bit, perhaps in the form of love or some other feeling or attachment I had formed during my time there. I was, myself, vibrating differently— waving into a motion of the unknown, and not that it mattered what would happen anymore—I hadn't anything to love, or anything to lose, and so everything just seemed a wash entirely. I had never been so dejected in my life. Now I gotta do some Sunnï Blū shit. —Hurry. Hurry what. We gotta go, Oh. Oh Deng. Oh dang. What happened? No, that's just what planet they're from. Dang. That's tricky. New York— Ehrhm. You look good. Hm. You cleaned up. Ya. Nice. Yeah it is. Nice. I said that.. Stop incepting me. No. Stop this please. Just stop sleeping. Okay. I wish you would die. I just did. WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE. idobntknow. SUNNI BLŪ I DO WHAT I WANT. Fuck, What. That's Sunnï Blu Okay? She does what she wants. That's not SUPACREE. Is it not? No. What happened? S/he chanxed. I'm a “they” –And this is how it all makes sense. What is this fucking place. “East” Ugh. Oh, there's Toronto. That makes sense. Ew. I know right. UGH. LOOK AT ALL THIS POOP. I know, huh. LOOK AT IT. Don't do maps on kx5. Should we “Earth” We should Earth. Ew. What dimension is this? Fucking sick–gross. This isnt Earth. This is Earth! What happened to it. *coughs* It seems some demonic force has taken over. *coughs* Ew. This is fucked up. Should we leave. NO! *coughs* I mean –yeah, but we should at least try to figure out what happened first. *coughs* First?! Or, later–maybe *coughs*coughs*coughs* Yeah, lets leave. FUCK. What, dude, guh. I told you no deadmau5 on the train. No you didn't. I should have. I SHOULD HAVE KILLED THAT THING WHEN I SAW IT. How would you do that? THE DEADMAUS Go to sleep. K. Did you guys “Earth” Uh, yeah, but– Was it awesome? Uhm, no. No, dude. Why, what happened? We don't know. It was bad. “Adventure is allowing the unexpected to happen to you. Exploration is experiencing what you have not experienced before.” — Richard Aldington Schenectady Ahahaha Poughkeepsie lol what. All these are places. Yeah, I know. People live in these places . Oh My God. What. Where's Whole Foods? You need Jesus. Where's he at? JESUS CHRIST Timmy, this party is lit. TIMMY TURNER Yeah, thanks bro. JESUS CHRIST I love you. TIMMY TURNER (Leaving) K that's weird. IT DOESN'T What . MAKE ANY SENSE. I simulated this experience, in the construct of time In the confines of space—just to have this moment. Uh. Train—-To Deadmau5. [BLŪ Exercises Furiously] Train—To Deadmau5. [BLŪ boards the train hurriedly] SOMETIMES— UGH. I'm all wrapped up; Wrapped up in your love –But you never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love Wonder what comes of it You never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love; A half smile on my face; (l love you) Always thinking of you What else can I do, but To fee stupid Can't get over you, but As the sun comes up, I wander off, Remember us I guess it's a long walk Guess i'll just fall out of it About time… About that– I'm all wrapped up, yeah Wrapped up in your love Sonny Moore had inspired some of the greatest things i had ever written in my time; and all with just one look–two eyes, and no words at all, began an infinite unravelling of words from God's hands and into my minds eye. ASCENSION Rise of Ascencia Farro. …Your Majesty. I need help. Don't burden me with your woes. I beg your pardon? No, don't beg. THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF— [Sunni opens the door.] No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still Linsday Lohan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan”; –She's just over there now. Not “was”. Still is Lindsay Lohan. Presently. How are you even friends. FLASHBACK SUNNI BLU sup, Lindsay Lohan! LINDSAY LOHAN sup. Who are you? SUNNI BLU I'm Sunni Blū. LINDSAY LOHAN LIKE—the rapper?! SUNNI BLU Not “like”. Am. LINDSAY LOHAN tight. SUNNI BLU. Sup. LINDSAY LOHAN Sup. SUNNI BLU I heard you like to party. LINDSAY LOHAN I like to party. SUNNI BLU —and, you DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN Oh yeah, huh! I was a DJ once. SUNNI BLU so was I. CUT BACK TO: SUNNI BLU now we're besties. I might be trapped in this hell, here, I figure But it's over when it's over, I cannot live here, Or anywhere Here's my liver; All he needed was a sliver, the silver lizard But I gave him the whole thing The whole thing The whole thing I swallowed the whole world whole, once And now it all happens, Over and over; A simple digestion And I've got no questions left No intuition, either No black characters, No brown eyes; I hate my life I hate my life Blonde is good, And redheads are nice; I hate my life I hate my life ‘Rich white peope are so fucking nasty sometimes' I had the best and the worst of it at Equinox, and while I considered it a miracle that I had even come so far, as to consider luxury fitness a priority and absolute necessity, even forgoing eating what I wanted or other comforts in paying my gym dues, now I had given myself what I thought to be the opportunity of a lifetime—it was on my bucket list, at least last time I checked, to visit Equinox in every city the chain had locations—and having put all my time and every fiber of my being into just ‘staying afloat', my idea of ‘living a little' was to workout as much as possible, while I still could—-as money was well beyond running dry just out or the sheer expense of traveling—or now—“touring”, as I would consider it, using my music as a means of not appearing homeless and destitute, and using my podcast as a medium for its promotion—though, I still didn't know where my listeners or downloads were coming from, and my Spotify, the last I had checked, had “0 monthly listeners” it was beginning again to be clear how much the United States hated black people, for whatever reason— and how privelege and power had overtaken even the best people's better senses. Humanity was slipping away—and so was I; the best I could do was to make my body as comfortable to live in as possible, and for whatever reason, I was drawn to Equinox to do so. Anandar or someone like her had once said, the key to being rich, is to spend money like you're rich, no matter the amount of money you had—knowing that in doing so, your money would multiply tenfold. I had never done so before, but between Equinox and my food stamps being stolen, the amount of money I had been draining myself of did indeed make me feel and look as if I had endless disposable income—and perhaps I did somehow—somewhere in the near future , if I could just convince myself I really was as special as my writing made me seem, or feel, simply reading it myself, or having chosen a carefully select few to read it. I was, indeed, a genius: the problem was, geniuses and writers particularly up to then had been notoriously famous for dying alone, penniless and undiscovered, and very often—by our own hands. Eleven since, I left Hell, and been in Heaven since I'm heaven sent I burn incense —A CROSS DIMENSIONAL PARALLEL REALITY. The taste of bile filled my mouth and sat on the back of my tongue as I tried to avoid the inevitability of swallowing it; it had all been worth it—the train to Hollywood had not altogether been as horrible as it usually was on The Expo—and as I rode 9 stops exactly into my old stomping grounds, I exited the Hollywood and Vine metro station to a nostalgic and familiar territory; this is where my Hollywood story had started, and had apparently yet to end, as I swept the Walk of Fame in a way I supposed I never had, the shadow of my old self following not behind, but directly overhead; I was, indeed, just a ghost. I ended up at Amoeba Music, hair dripping wet, and, though I had yet to eat in a couple of days, not feeling as if I had quite done a proper workout, rushed in the final hour to Hollywood, as the downtown location had been closed; Fine by me, as I was over and done with the downtown atmosphere altogether, and though I wasn't a particular fan of the new Amoeba Music location, I had felt a close calling to go to Hollywood that day, even before I knew I would have to—and ending up there anyway seemed to be another synchronicity indeed. ‘Spend it on something you love.' The voice had said, perhaps just my own—but not sounding anything at all like my own internal dialogue. No, this voice seemed entirely more divine, and so I took it as such, and was careful not to spend any of the carefully collected and specially marked dollar bills on anything I absolutely didn't love—and though I was terrified of the overall outcome of everything—now jobless, or rather, without secured income—my job having become myself in the process of writing, making music, and improving my physique to its peak performance and physical fitness, I had been careful not to spend any money at all on anything I absolutely didn't need. However, I did need music after all, and loved it more than anything, besides my own son—who did at least ask about me, after all, according to my estranged ex, who I had shielded myself from entirely, changing my name, my number, and my location for my own safety and peace of mind, rather than for aesthetic reasons, as anyone might have thought. But really, no one might have thought at all, as I was careful to leave everyone and everything behind that had come with my birth name, besides my father, my son, and my beloved Auntie, who I still allowed to call me “Cree”, though I had at least hinted at at an aycronym of my new name, giving her my address in case of emergency, or any other reason. But, I hadn't enough money to pay my mailbox, and so even that was irrelevant, as everything was. Suicide By Cop. Maybe. Idk. Look: the tinier you are—the bigger my dick seems. I get it. So be tiny. I like cereal. I like cake. I like cookies. I like shakes. So you know what. What. That's okay. REAPER Give me my scythe, Billie. BILLIE ELLISH It's a miniature scythe. REAPER Yeah—my—miniature scythe. BILLIE ELLISH It's mine now. REAPER No, it's not— BILLIE ELLISH But—you gave it to me. REAPER It came with the job. BILLIE ELLISH The job sucked! REAPER I know that! “LIL' BITZ” I'm just mildly concerned that LAPD squad cars are still 1995 crown Vic's. Like: how do you even catch sometime in a mazzerati? The guy who drives a mazzeratti's like: hah. You don't. You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amphetamine Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches Okay, from the top Hello? This is Hollywood calling; We want the festival project We just wrote up the contract Come get your deposit: You're nominated for an Oscar Your Star On The Walk looks Awesome it's On Us Yeah? That's what's up I'll come up I'll come up I'll come up Say what's up That's my shite; I'm rep in the festival project Ya'll like “what's that?” I'll tel you all about it,—that's Coming up next Oh yeah, Oh yeah Tune in I'm On Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right They call me young Hollywood, They robbed me good in Santa Monica And I so I got no address yet; But I'm coming up like one direction I just checked my reflection like: Mirror mirror on the wall I gotta go Hollywood's callin And I don't do this often Only when o bless the red carpet Comin in hot, like a chicken wing Call me Toy Story— got a friend in me, You feelin me? On the big screen livin out my dreams, I wrote my scenes, the Hollywood life: I neee I ride by On a tomeline I write, I like My nice things. The life I lead, Is ritghteous, I defy my means Applied IT, I might be AI, Fine my me; Cause all I see Is light I like, And I'm liking my Hollywood life, I think. It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business One door close. Then another door opens So sick flow, go home with a cold then Woah, Hoe—cold like some snow boots Pants so big, I can parachute (PARIS SHOOT) Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll We think we may have found your home planet. Oh, you think? Look at this. [DUFF views the distant soarkling object through the telescope lens, squinting.] Is that it?! I don't know… [Suddenly, as DIFF begins to focus on the planet; a high pitched ring only DUFF seems to hear strikes her away from the telescope, writhing in pain.] Woah, what happened?! Are you okay?! Is she okay?! [DUFF falls into a coma] What, no way. WhT is this. It's a show. WhTs it called. Idk. Shut up. You shut up. I'm watching —shhh! Call the doctor! MEANWHILE, IN HOLLYWOOD Girl. Hm. Look at these motherfuckets* Ooh, keep that. Wow. Huh. The entire reason for turning on my phone was to write about that experience. Which experience? I don't know, I've had like ten experiences since I walked into that door—and I wanted to write about all of them. Uh huh. But I lost it. You lost it? Not all of it. Well. Some of it. Which ones did you keep? The Good ones Oh shit, it's almost coming back to me Uh. First of all. —French people in love are cute. What. That shit is literally the cutest thing ever. French people—in love—speaking French. That shit is sexy Did you see his eyes? That's okay, Cree— I ‘That'll be enough. Ugh. Now, class— It's time for a sonnet, or synonym Senators, gentlemen— Get in your rhythm and trip to this; Cause it's about to get lit again: Call me illiterate, ignorant, negligent; Never irrelevant, disheveled or leveled since, This entrance is Heaven sent Evidence of everlasting natural intelligence That'll do. Okay. Let's break fast, I make gas, And bake snacks; I lay facts I slay slacks I'm maybacks You may ask Questions about the lesson, With a raised hand —okay class? . . . Oh— You forgot it was a lesson? Let me reflect and inspect, Resurrect the message just a bit— I'm the profession, If I ask, They answer “Yessir” I guess, er Thet yur just a jester Dunce hat on your ass Last, and rhe past semester, Ask my sweater: Your girl would probably wear it If I let her Oooh. Equinox+ (EP) Love brings me out of my shell; —I could love you, I I could love you, I Could love you, I Could love you, I love you I love you, I This isn't good for my health; If you don't love me,oh well — (I could love you, I) This is just passing the time, Count my dimes and, I'm wealthy, you build me up Shining, I wake you up Diamond of mine, I love you, I Love you I Do what I want most the time, Cause nothing else matters but Making you mine I, so what I want most the time I can't get out Out of my mind, Cause I love you I love you I, Wasting my time, I could love you but Nevermind Drunk, And I'm stumbling up to my apartment for The 30th time this month, My rent's due tomorrow, but I got it, Woah, I've got just enough Just to keep fuxkin up Getting fucked up And filling my cup Like it's something, But it's nothing, Not really Nothing, Not really Be good Work it out Come on Work it odd Be good Shake it off Work it out Come on Be good, Work it off, Work it out— Come on Be good Work it out Shake it off Come on — We all know There's a monster in there And it wants let out; All man, beware— Yeah We all know There's a monster in her— And, Someone will let it go Oh, Someone let it go Oh, no (oh yeah) Oh, no That's no good That's no good Oh no (Oh yeah) Oh no (Oh yeah!) No, no You just had to let it go You just had to let it go Oh, no! — I need time To rationalize my genius I can't write light this Alt right all white nationalists I can fantazize, right? I could die like this It's a damn good life What fucking time is it, anyway? Right? I can't rationalize, this Fascist rats at The Fashion district Bam, I had it— I had to get right, man I had to get God on my Mantras I fucked up tomorrow, I'm off in Toronto with problems And dogma— Who's dog is this Tied up at the Whole Foods market I tried it, I died in the in I can't idolize idols, man Cry, though, Dip my bicoff in Chiapas coffee All pissed off, Woah It's the wrong morning to wallow in Caught me off guard at the offering Sha, there's no mother here, No other one, You're wrong God, I stopped to cross at all of them, I suffered when I swallowed, Rah, What's wrong? I'm feeling solemn on my sodomist Wishes of This centrifugal —‘swimming with the fishes, Get it? Woah, It's a whole open world of Wizards and witches I wish I could ditch this —the center or attention is this city— That's Alex Tribec, for the record Fuck the TriBeCa fest Rest in Los Angeles Rest in peace Barbra Hah— I've got all of em This is an awful lot of mantras, Stars and Stripes. God; I lost it at the Oscar's, Turn me on, or off I'm all of it Or not What was the cost of this? An awful lot of mantras, stars, And crosswalks, To stop dead in the center of “I'm miserable That's Hollywood for you, God, That's Hollywood, That's where we dropped you off — Have you had enough, yet? How was is? Enough! I'm not even fully up yet! Fuck, It was loveless, All up in ashes, I told ya, That “fun is a friend of the devil “ Burn in sense, Just rub out the sense Have my lips on your hips, Just rotate, As the earth did, In difference, she has Impatience is his imperfection “Eventually,” She says, “I'll see him” He tends to agree, Within reason— Winter breezes and freedom, This season Envy leaves, But she's gonna get even Come in threes, And maybe, We'll see then. Come to the surface, Come up— Don't give up yet Give what you've got; Half a lung, And the other is under— Come on, Come up, Come all— Come, you're walking on water! No wonder they call for you On earth — (We've got a Hot One, for you) Have you ever wondered What's wrong with us all? Fuck— Hollywood's calling, I don't have my phone on me Hollywood called, But your voice Mail is full, What? I finally picked up; The message at the tone, Was in Morse code Billy fit the Playbill, I signed it “usnavi” Yo, You look just like me A sacrifice? A sacrifice, I said, I'm red, I'm jealous like I've never been That's right, blue eyes then Next lifetime Fu— They robbed me of all my art As a hobby Worshipped for All I've got Not a god yet, but Gotta be working on something That's all of it, Gotta be knocking it off, Full of gossip and God, I want love But it's not in the cards, huh New Joan Of Ark, Where's the war That you wanted Not enough talk, But I've done enough walking Gosh, Two thumbs up, All applause from the audience That what you wanted? Yeah! “God I want love but it's not in the cards yet” That's what you wanted? Yeah! That's what you wanted 10.60 2.94 7.75 Strange things happen when you change your vibration to Skrillex. It had been a fucking disasterous 24 hours l; not that I hadn't expected it to be, with Vegas in mind as the shithole capitol of the world, or at least the US, which was indeed turning to shit. Street after street filled with bodies, nearly dead but not—and not a care in the world at all by anyone who could help for the working class, nearly succumbed to poverty, or the homeless, by the millions in numbers rather than the mere thousands the false media portrayed as still an absolute crisis and state of emergency, however downplaying the numbers by millions, as they had already learned that the docile American public could be persuaded or made to move with numbers by the “pandemic”, a fear mongering new world order which had proved that almost no Americans could do math, or anything besides scroll and take selfies. GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS. Oh no. Not Skrillex Day, is it—? ITS SKRILLRX DAY, BIIITCH. Ugh. Fuck Yeah, you lil bitch. I'm spaced out, listing to Skrillex on sunset No shuffle I forgot about this one: It makes my lips numb This bitch dumb I'. Just a number! I don't really give a fuck ! If I had a Benz and blunt— I'd prob'ly roll my windows up Sunni with da big butt Come and get ya duck sucked I would say sunni blū But then I'd probably get some Crips up Ignorant indigenous ninjer Bendit like bender remember Send er a message when you get here Mister Fuck, I hate this. RULES OF TRAVEL ENTER THE MULTIVERSE SEASON 6 - ACT II I almost left my Elfbar in Raton, But I couldn't let go; It just held on. I had to leave my skateboard back at home , But now I'm gone. Now i'm gone Now I'm sick to my stomach, I didn't want this Now I'm so sick to my stomach; I didn't want it And all the non believers, And all the sinners, saints together on a train, wishing to be rich or famous; Freedom, Plain and simple *very scary music* I warned you; No bloodshed in LA. [A single drop of blood hits the pavement with a splash, in a vivid slow motion close up of the gritty Downto Los Angeles sidewalk] FLASHBACK; Have you ever heard of a blood oath? I knew something was wrong with that girl. It's not just that girl; It's this place. People do a lot of things to get by in LA. What is “get by” You're never gonna make it Well, then; I was never going to anyway–so it really doesn't matter. gal·lant adjective 1.(of a person or their behavior) brave; heroic."she had made gallant efforts to pull herself together" Similar: brave courageous valiant valorous bold plucky daring fearless intrepid heroic lionhearted stouthearted doughty mettlesome great-spirited honorable noble manly manful macho dashing daredevil death-or-glory undaunted unflinching unshrinking unafraid dauntless indomitable gutsy spunky ballsy have-a-go venturous Opposite: cowardly 2.(of a man or his behavior) giving special attention and respect to women; chivalrous."a gallant gentleman came over and kissed my hand" Similar: chivalrous gentlemanly courtly courteous respectful polite attentive gracious considerate thoughtful obliging mannerly gentle Opposite: discourteous rude nounARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ a man who pays special attention to women."he launches himself into a gallant's career of amorous intrigue" Similar: suitor wooer admirer worshipper beau sweetheart lover love beloved boyfriend young man man friend escort swain paramour verbARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ (of a man) flirt with (a woman)."Mowbray was gallanting the Polish lady" Gee' Moo had his hands all over me, which made me uncomfortable—but I had sworn solemnly to myself never to ‘tell' on any man again—and neither would I call them out, or make objections to their actions in any way; the age told story had always been ‘her word against mine ‘, making the woman or victim in question appear weak, and of course, untrustworthy—whatever that meant anyway, and not that any of his attempts were hostile, He knew I was openly celibate, and supposedly respected that—however, I just found it best to wholly keep him in the friend zone and keep the notion to myself, as he still seemed to have some kind of hope for something greater between us—and though I did consider him more than a friend, I considered him more like family than anything, his own blurred lines a shadow that had become too great to perhaps any longer be colegues—at least for now—especially that I was fleeing the US once more in complete secrecy—and though there had been some good work between the two of us, I wasn't equalling to his vibration anymore, his music sounded strange and off, and the words that would come to my mind were less easy than pushed or forced, and repetitive in sound and style. I knew that I was leaving, but had refused to tell anybody, especially Gee', who may have raised questions as to where I was going—something that seemed to be good to keep quiet entirely, as even earlier in the day I had tried to give my tour list to Equinox to see if I could bypass upgrading my membership to Destination by giving them a list of dates and cities I would visit and being given access to the visitors list in each city—I was however persuaded into not doing so and keeping my Desrination Stetus, as after attempting to give my home club my list of cities and dates, even against my own instinct and better judgement, the manager dawned a look in his eye that said “just lay low”, and as low as I could lay, I didn't know how long it would last with the onslaught of things I would have to do on my phone and computer over wifi during the long traveling time. Still, I wanted to travel lightly—and perhaps it was Divine intervention itself in the form of God when my $80 Nike backpack broke, leaving me scurrying for a new one that I could afford simply with the remaining balance on my gift card—luckily, I did find one that presumably fit my needs available for pickup, of course, even less high quality than the oversized “training” bag I had purchased just a few months before, not realizing that 32 Liters would be more than enough space, hard to fit under an airplane seat, and Ill-fitting the more petite I would become, or even as my weight fluctuated, just awkward looking in general—and though it was a very attractive bag, I had always thought it to be a little too ‘loud' and ostentatious, though I had become attracted somehow after being unable to return it as I had thought to when I had first ordered it, receiving the bag just before leaving Las Vegas, which I would return to the following day to retrieve the drum machine I had pawned as a matter of absolute survival. The best part about riding the train is… CUT TO: A firey plane crash CUT BACK TO You can't fall out of the sky. (Ya.) SHIA LA— Fuck it. SHIA IS “THE AIR MARSHALL” Ohh, what's this one about? Oh my God. I wasn't writing, and so I must have been in some way dead-I wasn't feeling even a whisp of inspiration, anymore—only annoyance, and slight suffering. The train to chugs I had gone all too quickly, and though I had started chipping away at some projects, there was nothing finished. Though the inhuman vibration and hostile tone of LA was long behind me, something did linger on a bit, perhaps in the form of love or some other feeling or attachment I had formed during my time there. I was, myself, vibrating differently— waving into a motion of the unknown, and not that it mattered what would happen anymore—I hadn't anything to love, or anything to lose, and so everything just seemed a wash entirely. I had never been so dejected in my life. Now I gotta do some Sunnï Blū shit. —Hurry. Hurry what. We gotta go, Oh. Oh Deng. Oh dang. What happened? No, that's just what planet they're from. Dang. That's tricky. New York— Ehrhm. You look good. Hm. You cleaned up. Ya. Nice. Yeah it is. Nice. I said that.. Stop incepting me. No. Stop this please please. Just stop sleeping. Okay. I wish you would die. I just did. WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE. idobntknow. SUNNI BLŪ I DO WHAT I WANT. Fuck, What. That's sunni Blu Okay? She does what she wants. That's not supacree Is it not? No. What happened? S/he chanxed. I'm a “they” –And this is how it all makes sense. What is this fucking place. “East” Ugh. Oh, there's Toronto. That makes sense. Ew. I know right. UGH. LOOK AT ALL THIS POOP. I know, huh. LOOK AT IT. Don't do maps on kx5. Should we “Earth” We should Earth. Ew. What dimension is this? Fucking sick–gross. This isnt Earth. This is Earth! What happened to it. *coughs* It seems some demonic force has taken over. *coughs* Ew. This is fucked up. Should we leave. NO! *coughs* I mean –yeah, but we should at least try to figure out what happened first. *coughs* First?! Or, later–maybe *coughs*coughs*coughs* Yeah, lets leave. FUCK. What, dude, guh I told you no deadmau5 on the train. No you didn't. I should have. I SHOULD HAVE KILLED THAT THING WHEN I SAW IT. How would you do that? THE DEADMAUS Go to sleep. K. Did you guys “Earth” Uh, yeah, but– Was it awesome? Uhm, no. No, dude. Why, what happened? We don't know. It was bad. “Adventure is allowing the unexpected to happen to you. Exploration is experiencing what you have not experienced before.” — Richard Aldington Schenectady Ahahaha Poughkeepsie lol what. All these are places. Yeah, I know. People live in these places . Oh My God. What. Where's Whole Foods? You need Jesus. Where's he at? JESUS CHRIST Timmy, this party is lit. TIMMY TURNER Yeah, thanks bro. JESUS CHRIST I love you. TIMMY TURNER (eaving) K that's weird. IT DOESN”T. What . MAKE ANY SENSE. I simulated this experience, in the construct of time In the confines of time and space—just to have this moment. Uh. Train—-To Deadmau5. [BLŪ Exercises Furiously] Train—To Deadmau5. [BLŪ boards the train hurriedly] SOMETIMES— I'm all wrapped up; Wrapped up in your love –But you never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love Wonder what comes of it You never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love; A half smile on my face; (l love you) Always thinking of you What else can I do, but To fee stupid Can't get over you, but As the sun comes up, I wander off, Remember us I guess it's a long walk Guess i'll just fall out of it About time… About that– I'm all wrapped up, yeah Wrapped up in your love Sonny Moore had inspired some of the greatest thing i had ever written in my time; and all with just one look–two eyes, and no words at all, began an infinite unravelling of words from God's hands and into my minds eye. Farro. …Your Majesty. I need help. Don't burden me with your woes. I beg your pardon? No, don't beg. LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF [Sunni opens the door. No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan” –She's just over there now. Not “was” How are you even friends. FLASHBACK SUNNI BLU sup, Lindsay Lohan! LINDSAY LOHAN sup. Who are you? SUNNI BLU I'm Sunni Blū LINDSAY LOHAN LIKE—the rapper. SUNNI BLU Not “like”. Am. LINDSAY LOHAN tight. SUNNI BLU. Sup. LINDSAY LOHAN Sup. SUNNI BLU I heard you like to party. LINDSAY LOHAN I like to party. SUNNI BLU —and, you DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN Oh yeah, huh! I was a DJ once. SUNNI BLU so was I. CUT BACK TO: SUNNI BLU now we're besties. I might be trapped in this hell, here, I figure But it's over when it's over, I cannot live here, Or anywhere Here's my liver; All he needed was a sliver, the silver lizard But I have him the whole thing The whole thing The whole thing I swallowed the whole world whole, once And now it all happens, Over and over; A simple digestion And I've got no questions left No intuition, either No black characters, No brown eyes; I hate my life I hate my life Blonde is good, And redheads are nice; I hate my life I hate my life ‘Rich white peope are so fucking nasty sometimes' I had the best and the worst of it at Equinox, and while I considered it a miracle that I had even come so far, as to consider luxury fitness a priority and absolute necessity, even forgoing eating what I wanted or other comforts in paying my gym dues, now I had given myself what I thought to be the opportunity of a lifetime—it was on my bucket list, at least last time I checked, to visit Equinox in every city the chain had locations—and having put all my time and every fiber of my being into just ‘staying afloat', my idea of ‘living a little' was to workout as much as possible, while I still could—-as money was well beyond running dry just out or the sheer expense of traveling—or now—“touring”, as I would consider it, using my music as a means of not appearing homeless and destitute, and using my podcast as a medium for its promotion—though, I still didn't know where my listeners or downloads were coming from, and my Spotify, the last I had checked, had “0 monthly listeners” it was beginning again to be clear how much the United States hated black people, for whatever reason— and how privelege and power had overtaken even the best people's better senses. Humanity was slipping away—and so was I; the best I could do was to make my body as comfortable to live in as possible, and for whatever reason, I was drawn to Equinox to do so. Anandar or someone like her had once said, the key to being rich, is to spend money like you're rich, no matter the amount of money you had—knowing that in doing so, your money would multiply tenfold. I had never done so before, but between Equinox and my food stamps being stolen, the amount of money I had been draining myself of did indeed make me feel and look as if I had endless disposable income—and perhaps I did somehow—somewhere in the near future , if I could just convince myself I really was as special as my writing made me seem, or feel, simply reading it myself, or having chosen a carefully select few to read it. I was, indeed, a genius: the problem was, geniuses and writers particularly up to then had been notoriously famous for dying alone, penniless and undiscovered, and very often—by our own hands. Eleven since, I left Hell, and been in Heaven since I'm heaven sent I burn incense The taste of bile filled my mouth and sat on the back of my tongue as I tried to avoid the inevitability of swallowing it; it had all been worth it—the train to Hollywood had not altogether been as horrible as it usually was on The Expo—and as I rode 9 stops exactly into my old stomping grounds, I exited the Hollywood and Vine metro station to a nostalgic and familiar territory; this is where my Hollywood story had started, and had apparently yet to end, as I swept the Walk of Fame in a way I supposed I never had, the shadow of my old self following not behind, but directly overhead; I was, indeed, just a ghost. I ended up at Amoeba Music, hair dripping wet, and, though I had yet to eat in a couple of days, not feeling as if I had quite done a proper workout, rushed in the final hour to Hollywood, as the downtown location had been closed; Fine by me, as I was over and done with the downtown atmosphere altogether, and though I wasn't a particular fan of the new Amoeba Music location, I had felt a close calling to go to Hollywood that day, even before I knew I would have to—and ending up there anyway seemed to be another synchronicity indeed. ‘Spend it on something you love.' The voice had said, perhaps just my own—but not sounding anything at all like my own internal dialogue. No, this voice seemed entirely more divine, and so I took it as such, and was careful not to spend any of the carefully collected and specially marked dollar bills on anything I absolutely didn't love—and though I was terrified of the overall outcome of everything—now jobless, or rather, without secured income—my job having become myself in the process of writing, making music, and improving my physique to its peak performance and physical fitness, I had been careful not to spend any money at all on anything I absolutely didn't need. However, I did need music after all, and loved it more than anything, besides my own son—who did at least ask about me, after all, according to my estranged ex, who I had shielded myself from entirely, changing my name, my number, and my location for my own safety and peace of mind, rather than for aesthetic reasons, as anyone might have thought. But really, no one might have thought at all, as I was careful to leave everyone and everything behind that had come with my birth name, besides my father, my son, and my beloved Auntie, who I still allowed to call me “Cree”, though I had at least hinted at at an aycronym of my new name, giving her my address in case of emergency, or any other reason. But, I hadn't enough money to pay my mailbox, and so even that was irrelevant, as everything was. Look: the tinier you are—the bigger my dick seems. I get it. So be tiny. I like cereal. I like cake. I like cookies. I like shakes. So you know what. What. That's okay. REAPER Give me my scythe, Billie. BILLIE ELLISH It's a miniature scythe. REAPER Yeah—my—miniature scythe. BILLIE ELLISH It's mine now. REAPER No, it's not— BILLIE ELLISH But—you gave it to me. REAPER It came with the job. BILLIE ELLISH The job sucked! REAPER I know that! I'm just mildly concerned that LAPD squad cars are still 1995 crown Vic's. Like: how do you even catch sometime in a mazzerati? The guy who drives a mazzeratti's like: hah. You don't. You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches Okay, from the top Hello? This is Hollywood calling; We want the festival project We just wrote up the contract Come get your deposit: You're nominated for an Oscar Your Star On The Walk looks Awesome it's On Us Yeah? That's what's up I'll come up I'll come up I'll come up Say what's up That's my shite; I'm rep in the festival project Ya'll like “what's that?” I'll tel you all about it,—that's Coming up next Oh yeah, Oh yeah Tune in I'm On Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right They call me young Hollywood, They robbed me good in Santa Monica And I so I got no address yet; But I'm coming up like one direction I just checked my reflection like: Mirror mirror on the wall I gotta go Hollywood's callin And I don't do this often Only when o bless the red carpet Comin in hot, like a chicken wing Call me Toy Story— got a friend in me, You feelin me? On the big screen livin out my dreams, I wrote my scenes, the Hollywood life: I neee I ride by On a tomeline I write, I like My nice things. The life I lead, Is ritghteous, I defy my means Applied IT, I might be AI, Fine my me; Cause all I see Is light I like, And I'm liking my Hollywood life, I think. Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business One door close. Then another door opens So sick flow, go home with a cold then Woah, Hoe—cold like some snow boots Pants so big, I can parachutes Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll We think we may have found your home planet. Oh, you think? Look at this'd [DUFF views the distant soarkling object through the telescope lens, squinting.] Is that it?! I don't know… [Suddenly, as DIFF begins to focus on the planet; a high pitched ring only DUFF seems to hear strikes her away from the telescope, writhing in pain.] Woah, what happened?! Are you okay?! Is she okay?! [DUFF falls into a coma] What, no way. WhT is this. It's a show. WhTs it called. Idk. Shut up. You shut up. I'm watching —shhh! Call the doctor! DUFF! What's your name again? …Are you serious? No, I'm kidding. (No, I actually forgot what I named this character) I think it's “Joel” I doubt that. What was it. Idk, moving on. …did you forget? Yeah, I forgot. It's okay! Yeah, I guess. We found you!! Yeah. Sorry we destroyed the planet— —only like half. It's totally destroyed. It was like that before you guys landed. —? Just Trust me. Why does it look like somebody turned you upside down? I was “paralyzed” What's that mean? It happens here. That sounds horrible. This place sucks. It's really far. Girl. Hm. Look at these motherfuckets* Ooh, keep that. Wow. Huh. The entire reason for turning on my phone was to write about that experience. Which experience? I don't know, I've had like ten experiences since I walked into that door—and I wanted to write about all of them. Uh huh. But I lost it. You lost it? Not all of it. Well. Some of it. Which ones did you keep? The Good ones Oh shit, it's almost coming back to me Uh. First of all. —French people in love are cute. What. That shit is literally the cutest thing ever. French people—in love—speaking French. That shit is sexy Did you see his eyes? That's okay, Cree— I ‘That'll be enough. Ugh. Now, class— It's time for a sonnet, or synonym Senators, gentlemen— Get in your rhythm and trip to this; Cause it's about to get lit again: Call me illiterate, ignorant, negligent; Never irrelevant, disheveled or leveled since, This entrance is Heaven sent Evidence of everlasting natural intelligence That'll do. Okay. Let's break fast, I make gas, And bake snacks; I lay facts I slay slacks I'm maybacks You may ask Questions about the lesson, With a raised hand —okay class? . . . Oh— You forgot it was a lesson? Let me reflect and inspect, Resurrect the message just a bit— I'm the profession, If I ask, They answer “Yessir” I guess, er Thet yur just a jester Dunce hat on your ass Last, and rhe past semester, Ask my sweater: Your girl would probably wear it If I let her Oooh. Equinox+ (EP) Love brings me out of my shell; —I could love you, I I could love you, I Could love you, I Could love you, I love you I love you, I This isn't good for my health; If you don't love me,oh well — (I could love you, I) This is just passing the time, Count my dimes and, I'm wealthy, you build me up Shining, I wake you up Diamond of mine, I love you, I Love you I Do what I want most the time, Cause nothing else matters but Making you mine I, so what I want most the time I can't get out Out of my mind, Cause I love you I love you I, Wasting my time, I could love you but Nevermind Drunk, And I'm stumbling up to my apartment for The 30th time this month, My rent's due tomorrow, but I got it, Woah, I've got just enough Just to keep fuxkin up Getting fucked up And filling my cup Like it's something, But it's nothing, Not really Nothing, Not really Be good Work it out Come on Work it odd Be good Shake it off Work it out Come on Be good, Work it off, Work it out— Come on Be good Work it out Shake it off Come on — We all know There's a monster in there And it wants let out; All man, beware— Yeah We all know There's a monster in her— And, Someone will let it go Oh, Someone let it go Oh, no (oh yeah) Oh, no That's no good That's no good Oh no (Oh yeah) Oh no (Oh yeah!) No, no You just had to let it go You just had to let it go Oh, no! — I need time To rationalize my genius I can't write light this Alt right all white nationalists I can fantazize, right? I could die like this It's a damn good life What fucking time is it, anyway? Right? I can't rationalize, this Fascist rats at The Fashion district Bam, I had it— I had to get right, man I had to get God on my Mantras I fucked up tomorrow, I'm off in Toronto with problems And dogma— Who's dog is this Tied up at the Whole Foods market I tried it, I died in the in I can't idolize idols, man Cry, though, Dip my bicoff in Chiapas coffee All pissed off, Woah It's the wrong morning to wallow in Caught me off guard at the offering Sha, there's no mother here, No other one, You're wrong God, I stopped to cross at all of them, I suffered when I swallowed, Rah, What's wrong? I'm feeling solemn on my sodomist Wishes of This centrifugal —‘swimming with the fishes, Get it? Woah, It's a whole open world of Wizards and witches I wish I could ditch this —the center or attention is this city— That's Alex Tribec, for the record Fuck the TriBeCa fest Rest in Los Angeles Rest in peace Barbra Hah— I've got all of em This is an awful lot of mantras, Stars and Stripes. God; I lost it at the Oscar's, Turn me on, or off I'm all of it Or not What was the cost of this? An awful lot of mantras, stars, And crosswalks, To stop dead in the center of “I'm miserable That's Hollywood for you, God, That's Hollywood, That's where we dropped you off — Have you had enough, yet? How was is? Enough! I'm not even fully up yet! Fuck, It was loveless, All up in ashes, I told ya, That “fun is a friend of the devil “ Burn in sense, Just rub out the sense Have my lips on your hips, Just rotate, As the earth did, In difference, she has Impatience is his imperfection “Eventually,” She says, “I'll see him” He tends to agree, Within reason— Winter breezes and freedom, This season Envy leaves, But she's gonna get even Come in threes, And maybe, We'll see then. Come to the surface, Come up— Don't give up yet Give what you've got; Half a lung, And the other is under— Come on, Come up, Come all— Come, you're walking on water! No wonder they call for you On earth — (We've got a Hot One, for you) Have you ever wondered What's wrong with us all? Fuck— Hollywood's calling, I don't have my phone on me Hollywood called, But your voice Mail is full, What? I finally picked up; The message at the tone, Was in Morse code Billy fit the Playbill, I signed it “usnavi” Yo, You look just like me A sacrifice? A sacrifice, I said, I'm red, I'm jealous like I've never been That's right, blue eyes then Next lifetime Fu— They robbed me of all my art As a hobby Worshipped for All I've got Not a god yet, but Gotta be working on something That's all of it, Gotta be knocking it off, Full of gossip and God, I want love But it's not in the cards, huh New Joan Of Ark, Where's the war That you wanted Not enough talk, But I've done enough walking Gosh, Two thumbs up, All applause from the audience That what you wanted? Yeah! “God I want love but it's not in the cards yet” That's what you wanted? Yeah! That's what you wanted 10.60 2.94 7.75 Strange things happen when you change your vibration to Skrillex. It had been a fucking disasterous 24 hours l; not that I hadn't expected it to be, with Vegas in mind as the shithole capitol of the world, or at least the US, which was indeed turning to shit. Street after street filled with bodies, nearly dead but not—and not a care in the world at all by anyone who could help for the working class, nearly succumbed to poverty, or the homeless, by the millions in numbers rather than the mere thousands the false media portrayed as still an absolute crisis and state of emergency, however downplaying the numbers by millions, as they had already learned that the docile American public could be persuaded or made to move with numbers by the “pandemic”, a fear mongering new world order which had proved that almost no Americans could do math, or anything besides scroll and take selfies. GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS. Oh no. Not Skrillex Day, is it—? ITS SKRILLRX DAY, BIIITCH. Ugh. Fuck Yeah, you lil bitch. I'm spaced out, listing to Skrillex on sunset No shuffle I forgot about this one: It makes my lips numb This bitch dumb I'. Just a number! I don't really give a fuck ! If I had a Benz and blunt— I'd prob'ly roll my windows up Sunni with da big butt Come and get ya duck sucked I would say sunni blū But then I'd probably get some Crips up Ignorant indigenous ninjer Bendit like bender remember Send er a message when you get here Mister Fuck, I hate this. RULES OF TRAVEL Always leave things better than you found it. Well, I feel better, Thanks , God. Yep, no problem. Okay. *lays down momentarily* [half beat] Back to Work. [Suddenly Getting Up] OkayZ. Do ya'll remember—the time on the train. “ damn, I shoulda saw that movie with Carmella. This is hilarious. Watch. Agh, God. What is it. Now it's the hard part; I gotta do some technical shit. Mm. Like what: Put it on the net. don't. Uh. Too late, bitch. ::||pause. is this train gonna go. Is it. Innit. K. [train starts moving] Hm. I lost the thought, In awe of it all— The saga I wrote, and The words that would fall, All around me; The words that I saw, And the words that had found me The words that I was, And could not be without being Unh. That'll do. Lol what is up with this train. CONDUCTOR. Yo, it's me. Who the fuxk is this. What is this operation. Lol. Damn, what . 3D has its perks This is way beyond 3D. I know. bitch. **shh, don't cuss. What. It's for the kidsZ No, it isn't. It's for the kiddzzz. What. No. Yes: NoS For thee kids. So I turn 30 and my body keeps reminding me that I'm a baby machines Okay: What. Ew, that's gross. Lol. Only cause she's 30. What. Agism: it's real. EVERYTHING IS REAL. What. Uh. RAIL. —WHAt— —RAIL— Damn. … Zzz … SUPACREEA* is seated on the LOUNGE car in COACH. Don't capitalize coach. YOU're IN COAH. Oh hell yeah. What's in there. Not you. Okay, I'll be SUPACREE A, And you'll be SUPACREE B. Okay. You're not gonna disagree to being ‘B' instead of A, like me? I am you. I don't care. Fine. . . . I want to be SUPACREE B No take backs. SUPACREE A and SUOACREE B are DUPLICATES. DAMN, YOU DUPLICATED? Not on purpose! DAMN. This goes beyond shapeshiftig. I didn't know you could do that. I could do that. Oh. ‘Oh' Ugh I got this feeling in my soul— —I got this stone inside my palm— I got this pulling in my heart— —i feel like you could be the one; But you're gone, now Gone, gone, gone Gone gone, gone Gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone —and when there's no where left to run; —and there's no need to wander off— —and there is no one left to love— I guess I'll see you when you're gone Gone, gone, gone Gone gone, gone Gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone I'm gonna go ahead and take this on. Oh, God, No! —not because I want to; But why, then?! Because I gotta. You came a long way, kid. Where am I now? Oh, you're still nowhere. ITS NO FAIR. Life isn't fair, Amanda. But MoooooOO0000M. NO. BUT MO— NO—no SUPACREE show tonight! But— I told you, clean your room. I don't know what I am. You're a fairy. Pretty scary fairy. It'll do, though. WANDA. NO. COME, ON, WANDA NO. WANDA, COME ON. WAKANDA FOR— No, no black Panther. What, why not? That movie's racist. Wha-?! CUT TO: I didn't want to do it this way, kid. Who are you? The crypt keeper. Oh. Yeah. Am I Dead? Yeah. Wow. Yeah. Hm. Yep. Can I see your scythe? You wanna see? Yeah, it's nice— *SCYLCE!* Lol. AOh my god AAAAHHHHHJH—Drake BELL. Don't worry, he's an ansolary character. Wat. Kinda. Damn. Season 6 is on FIRE THE HOLLYWOOD PEOLPLE ahem. Hollywood is on fire. SUPACREE WHELP. I'm out. No, don't go. SKRILLEX DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS. SONNY Fuck it, I'm in Korea. Or Thailand, or whatever. Something like that. “Something like that.” Ahem. Where's Dillon Francis. LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYONE FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. Damn. YeH, that. Well, God forbid anything actually happens to that guy. GOD I don't forbid anything. It's a free world. AHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHAHAHJAHAHJJA AHAHAHHA STOP. What. Go back. WhT. For. Just. Go back. For what. I thought I saw somethings Something like what. Something. Just. Ugh. JUST REWIND. SUPACREE has replaced the remote with THE SYNETHESIA PANEL MINI *life itself rewinds

united states america god tv jesus christ ceo music american new york spotify california ai earth hollywood master freedom las vegas coach work hell mexico magic running living americans french canadian walk dj girl european chinese green fire rich toronto stars japanese playing spanish cost minnesota open write satan train fashion adventure east 3d gods strange fame heroes cold divine humanity mexican legends burn mine mail television millions math cinema shit eat korea mirror hole gotta lol scream caught fuck diamond senators eleven refugees vine pi pants destination shake polish bitch excuse exploration similar gross shut metro expo toy story wizards copyright lie alt surface carpenter get up presenting flashback whole foods latin american dope south park cry tequila medicaid ka hurry wishes illuminati amish vic plain blonde cc i love fucking mm hocus pocus whoopi goldberg wrapped comcast jimmy fallon sussex diff int pretend rail panther ill dang golden girls wasting footsteps anthology equinox cree lapd stripes conductor lindsay lohan fascists owl hm dip whoop morse burbank hoes suicidal idk ignorant auntie gee sha duff skrillex benz ew impatience fry shit show aw oh my god tribeca caper chiapas goddamn crips spirit airlines alesso brooklyn bridge confirming open the door sunni fuckin jobless scarf my lord ahem specifics it doesn moo duplicate polished resurrect wha dillon francis drake bell ohh hah downtown los angeles aww heh unh rah yeh face down hillary duff uhh innit sunn mmf hot one playbill your majesty eww zzz uhm fuck yeah mowbray fuck it agh bitz raton freehand thet farro pondered liters wht timmy turner hell naw agism liverpool tottenham coelacanth hey jesus edgware mexican spanish amoeba music elf bar air marshall deface traini i can fly aoh only god knows sonny moore linsday lohan

[Hi, I'm -Ū.] {Enter The Multiverse} -Ū.

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 8, 2023 23:36

I want to listen to Drake bell's albums, but I probably should do it in airplane mode. Oh yeah, go wayyy off line for that. Way, way, way off; I can't wait till my day off, Dang What was I doing? Oh yeah, writing a song again. Again. Yeah. It goes like: Don't turn your back on me! Show me your misery I am the pretender You will not watch me Fiend for a friend, or Are you my only— Are you that lonely? Is it just like this? What was that look? Mistook me for a hypocrite, woah! Nothing needed to be said. And nothing wanted to be heard, And what? You hurt me, there The world is just obsurd, And worse, and worse On the surface Oh You said You keep Secrets But just Keep on Repeating and repeating things At meetings, man You need me, man? I'm just another planet; So prepare to land, A phantom, at the hands of —? Standing at the gate; I hate you— Did you get what you needed, at least? Did you get to— Where you were going? Don't just toss me to the side, Like one of your rag dolls: I just got the call— I want all— I need all of it. I picked up the call I want all— I need all of it All of it All of it. Nothing needed to be said. And nothing wanted to be heard, And what? You hurt me, there The world is just obsurd, And worse, and worse On the surface Oh And— i just got the call— I want all— I need all of it. I picked up the call I want all— I need all of it All of it All of it. Whyyy did you do this? I didn't meant to. Whyyy would you say this? Uh. Please. At least I, Got myself out of that rut, I'm The only thing good for a laugh, Anymore, it's Awful, sometimes, And awesome, sometimes; But I wish I could be Sonny Moore. Ohh-la-la Is this a song? Uh. It would be, But it could be, A passion-struck catastrophe, Or is that in your dictionary yet? Encyclopedia, perhaps— I take my media at glance, a grain of salt, and then a glass of water; What's you order? Plants, Is that exactly as you planned, Or placed the bet, Or better yet, Your sweater's burning in my bed (Or in my pants) Or in my head, In dreams, Instead I'm better wet than enter Anyother Weather than the forecast has Implanted on the channel blasters Yes, It is just what I had predicted. Then, You missed it. “You missed it” You missed it, Oh, You missed it Better off dead. Then, You missed it You missed it, man You missed it Oh, You missed it Just — Let it pass. (Like the weather did.) Now, Just as I predicted; A whithered, wilted Wildflower, Dancing in my eyes Inside the tower, While I cowered under, Struck with love, And nothing else thereafter; That was the plan, yea? For Ever After For Ever After For Ever After Yes, It is just what I had predicted. Then, You missed it. “You missed it” You missed it, Oh, You missed it Better off dead. Than without love — You missed it You missed it, man You missed it Oh, You missed it That's two. Are we going anywhere with this? Home, I hope. (Wherever that is.) … No more songs? …no, that's it. Are you sure ? … … . . . No. Proceed. I Uh, Didn't even want to be a writer, But in spite of, the dire Uh— What was that? Uh, Nothin' Uh— Sounded like rap. Yeah, Uh, — Nah. No, it's not rap? Uh, Yeah, It's not rap, I promise, I'm not a rapper, I just happen to be snappy at it, And my syntax matches exactly At the pattern that I blabber in, At random as i'm slanderin' Vocabulary — acronyms n' antonyms Like Eminem. … … Proceed. Prepare to fast again Prepare at least half of a set list And dance to this; Shazam is set to automatic For the tracks I might have managed to forget It isn't mischief managed Panic attack after panic attack I'm an asshole, at best But I'm better off dead, In my head Insomniac's not racist — They just don't want to put up with my shit! Another artist on the verge of politics, ambition On detox and in recovery For digging Skrillex. Fuck this. Yep. Hit the decks Hit the decks Just collect, All my checks And then get On this jet— Thank U, Next, Thank U, Next {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

@ The Other Job leaked

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 16, 2022 40:57

Three artists preform the same spell with entirely different intentions—in some dimensions. [Muffled thud] What's the wish? These, three. Burning daisies, are we? No, just Dandelions. Separate them. The hearts?! All of them— —Spirit I swear to God. —don't// ‘Skrillex is my Spirit Animal'. —and, Soul. What of the flesh? It will wound and perish but will not bond or be bound to death, until it again becomes as One. What is THIS? I honestly-/ Honestly!! Honestly thought, this was a movie about: —Skrillex. —Dillon Francis — A S Ū P E R S T A R DJ [ARTIST] ...okay… Ooh, good alternate. The Womp WOMPING Willow will beat your ass into believing you are— whatever it tells you, you are. DJ. NO. “DJ.” NO. NO DJ. NO. NO—DJ. I don't think D.J. wants to be a DJ. Nobody wants to be a DJ. Shut up D.J.—you're a D.J. Too—you Motherfucker!!!! MOTHERFUCKER!!!!! [hey motherfucker—Timmy trumpet] aww, poor PJ Lol. Poor Billy. B.J.—the DJ I don't like this sign. It looks bad. Take it down. “BJ THE DJ” TAKE IT DOW— CUT TO: DJ?! That's the Fuxking WORST. AGHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHH!!!!!!!! IM NOT A DJ!! “Not a DJ” You— SUPERSTAR DJ SKRILLEX HUH. EVERYBODY ELSE HUH. —Skrillex—the world's first “SUPERSTAR”DJ” NUH - UH YAH HUHHH! NAH AUGHHHGGHHHH!!! UH-HUHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AGHHHHHH. AAAAAAAAaaahhahgahhahahhahhaagghhhhhhhhhhhhhh… [go to sleep.] SKRILLEX Nherr. —?? THE WOMP WOMPING WILLOW *voiced by Valee, Jermih MEGA DJ —WHAT IS THAT?!— Oh no. Don't do this, I didn't wanna. (Crying) I don't wanna He really don't wanna. So make ‘em. —- So. So. He's going to college— Yes. Is this a joke___? Is it? IS IT? ...mmmm...nope…. As part of his prison sen— Yep. For Mass Murder. Yep. SHUTTHEFUCKUP— [does.] Jesus Christ, what is his power? JESUS Don't ask me. Only he knows. Only he knows. HE DOESNT KNOW. But she does. Okay look. What. Look. ‘Skrillex and Supacree Scrap turned Barroom Brawl' ...no. “NO?” [Looks: it's bad] Imma have that ® Goddamn it, don't. Don't do what Make that face. Agh. Or that one. Ufff. This is a scuffle. Who let him in here. They beat the shit out of each other, with bass, and bassball bats. I thought it was theatrics! Insomniac has incredible production value!!!! [brutal Bloody murder] Bass heads: AGAHAHAJABSNAKAJAABDKSMA SNSKAOZJSNSLALZKS—- #All that. Kenna & Kel? Yeah broh!! Live Set?! yah broh!! SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE SET ooh, what's this. BITCH. [LIZ LEMON] PICK UP YOUR SKRILLEX. *obnoxious super drunk fart* (Especially, for a woman!) Hey/-! You can't say that! You can't not say that!! WHAT DOES EQUALITY MEAN? gross man farts— FLATULENCE GREATER-THAN, Stop this joke. OR EQUAL TO Okay. —SKRILLEX!!!!!!! Get out, now. I got it. —- Ext. Boston, Massachusetts. Day SUPACREE [A / DJ] ‘SKRILLEX' is an extraterrestrial entity which manifests variously through specific forces, subjects, and beings. Though masking her true identity, CC STONE, the chosen secret identity of the mysterious SUPACREE, has been in hiding, though knowingly under conspicuous monitoring. SKRILLEX uses telepathy, as to remain intractable to the extent of normal human capacity, or even the most advanced technology, to continue evading the various government entities and agencies seeking to study this ‘intangible energy'. Having become a guiding force and ‘imaginary friend' of SUPACREE, masquerading as unassuming and low-key traveler ‘CC', the pressures of dark forces arise in the form of hostility, which SKRILLEX combats quietly, most recently, silently. After decoding a specific series of dream sequences projected post-consciously, ‘CC', wrought with anxiety, contemplates secretly relocating, anticipating more terrorism from her own home country; She begins formulating a way to escape further being targeted secretly. TImelines begin intercepting, as NATALIE from DEATHWISH is contemplating jumping from the 6th story of the same apartment building; CC/SUPACREE considers this, but focuses on a positive solution more diligently, meditating. Upon returning to her studio, CC begins cleaning and, although she's only just finished eating, begins preparing another meal to eat; As the energy moves around her, she begins to move automatically; now fully aware of SUPACREE's shifting abilities. She submits in silence, sighing in relief as a greeting. SKRILLEX Listen to me. CC I'm always listening. SKRILLEX I am leaving. CC pauses in silence; The room is grey and empty; Then, she remembers something. ‘The Skrillex Project' was intended to be temporary. | Oh please, there is no Skrillex. Of course there's a Skrillex. No, there isn't. There is, you're just limited. Of course I'm limited; look at this. Look at this place! What happened here? This is it, since it...shifted. Shifted? What the fuck does that mean? The polarity. "Polarity" ? --And, that planet is off of its axis entirely. Entirely? Are you just repeating everything? "Everything?!" This is ridiculous. It is. Skrillex is Ridiculous. Say that three times. No. Do it. No way. Just say it. No way, man, I'm not summoning Skrillex. It was your idea. I changed my mind! Pussy! I was just kidding! I didn't think we were actually gonna do it. Come on dude, just say it, just say it! No way. One of you say it! No way! Fuck it, I'll say it. NO! Fuck that! Oh, fuck you guys. It's not like it's going to work, anyway. It might! And then what? Nothing's going to happen, I'll prove it. Skrillex is Ridiculous Skrillex is Ridiculous Skrillex is Ridicu--- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. The lights come on, the boys stare at eachother in confusion and disbelief; the sound of loud footsteps as someone coming down the stairs enters the basement they are gathered in. Sonny, only slightly startled, unassumingly looks up at the group of preteens, and seems for the most part unbothered. Hey guys. The boys just stare. Oh my God. What? You're Skrillex! Yeah but-- RUN!! Three boys from a separate dimension have caused their own "nonexistence"; in their own reality, Skrillex (which can literally be an ambiguation of anything, If everything is everything and so forth) does not exist, and his his actual existence is thought to be fictional, historically misrepresented, or inaccurate--being told as an urban legend How long after the first scene is this happening? Well, I mean...I don't know. Well, we know these kids come from SIR; Technically, but I think this happens before SIR has been established, since upon returning home, they all know Skrillex is real, spreading the story among the skeptics and being exhausted after Skrillex, looking for somebody stumbles through their dimension and gets trapped in it, quickly gaining a global cult following,coining the term "Skrillex is real", eventually leading to Skrillex, Isreal. Which I guess makes sense. It makes sense! The neighbor kids again? Yeah. ____ Get this: they changed the word "slave", to "employee"; bit it still works the same! Oh man! And I mean, they get paid, but they have to pay their wages back to basically the same companies the money came from… You're kidding. I'm not. I wish I was. This is fucked--(up) This is fucked up. I mean, the people on this continent aren't even eating, so I mean. Woaaaahhh, whaaaaat. I know, it's the whole place. But it's mostly this "United States", it's full of baby rapists and run by these... white supremacy people, and they raise cows just to make “steak”. Woah. Right? And the slaves just take it, they pay for everything they make! She's gonna be so mad when she sees this. Don't tell her. We have to; they just planned an entire pandemic, and it's entire purpose-- What is Purpose? --in this country, it's currency. "Currency?' what is "currency"? The Legend of SupaCree follows an involuntary “hero” on her adventures, after her powers become unlocked; Now, she must join forces with the other DJ's to Save The Rave. _____ SupaCree refuses to tell anybody anything. (After Pre-edc scene) oh dude, that's a lot. It is a lot. She still hasn't told her mom you're “Skrillex” Ugh, no. And she makes me shop at K-Mart every time we go over there. You got that at K-Mart? It's nice. Yeah. Where did you find a K-Mart? ______ Where is “Earff”? _____ Bampheramph training is considered complete once the trainee “stops crying”, thus begins the official recruitment process, which includes but is not limited to reaching various ‘extremes', which differ by context. ____ Every red cup is just Another broken heart, Another broken dream, Another broken record, Playing on repeat … … … Wheres my Skrillex? Which-- So, Skrillex… You can call me Sonny. ...Skrillex... O...kay… [She squints suspiciously at him and jots something down in her notebook.] ____ So, do you use Serato, or Rekordbox? Neither I just [Demonstrates] What the fuck does that even mean? It means you can [Demonstrates] 1____1 How is he doing this? Magic. I'm not going to fight for him. Do you honestly think this is happening to anybody else? Maybe. Honestly? Infinite. Infinite Skrill-- Infinite fucking everything. I'm not about to try to explain it. So what are you going to do? I don't know. The worlds gone mad she is, but she's not a man. She's trapped in a casket Can't listen to the map And can't imagine he'll ever come back Jag parked, smogs bad and she has a plan But can't get past the magnet Magic has its way of making things go crazy Why don't you just--& Oh what? Have my people call his people? Something like that His peopl I had a dream About a tent About a temporary tenant This christmas, its Resentment, Tension And whatever this is… Oh yes, "This is Skrillex…" wayward Hey. Hey. So, uh. So. What's wrong with you? ....what? What's wrong. Whats...wrong? --With you. SupaCree summons Skrillex. Skrillex. Stop it. Fuck you. Skrillex. Seriously, stop You stop. Skrillex-Skrillex-Skriooex o Oh no Just stop. In the parallel where… SŪpAcree has become a disastrously egotistic and diva-like superstar, we see she is in this world, outwardly bitter, rather angry and despondent, having learned to capitalize best not being herself. A young intern helps to prepare an event; His trainer, an astute and rigid stage manager, after finishing a series of detailed questions about the theatrical performance and it's various attendees-+ leaves the intern alone for "just a minute" handing them her clipboard as she hurriedly rushes elsewhere. The intern scans the clipboard, flipping the front page over to reveal a hidden note. Taking the initiative (trying to be assertive in the newly appointed position), asks nervously... ...And what about Skrillex? Who? Skrillex. Who the fuck is that? Its...Skrillex. Tell me who that is. Uh… Go ahead. The intern stands, frightened at her anger. The stage manager returns. _______________ I hate this shit, it isn't fair. It isnt Wheres my phone? __ Woah. You did all this for Skrillex. Pretty much. Yeah. I guess. Yep. Wow. Okay. You would. (I did) Burn it. What? Fuck that! Ughhhhh. No. Sonny/fictional skrillex: Do you know why ai put you in this fucked up dimension? Me: WHAT? YOU DID THIS? NO--WHY--?? Sonny: So you could get your shit together. Me: well, that's fucked up. S/FS: I DID NOT think it would take this long Me: well, how long is it supposed to take? S/FS: I don't know… Me: ...well, how long does it usually take? S/FS: So wait; You guys from the future-- Fathomable future. Uh-huh Have seen the show? Yes. My show. Mm-hmm. / Well then, how does it start? ----------------------------- I already told you, no. Yes. I'm not going to Skrillex. You have to go. No. What the fuck is NO. I'm not going. WHAT? What. You have to go. Who says? We do. Okay. Okay. [beat] Who the fuck are you? OOH, ARE WE STILL BLEEPING OUT THE SKRILLEX? Yes. Sonny Sonny Sonny Sonny Sonny Sonny Sonny You so Funny Funny Funny Funny Funny Funny Funny Do you Love me Love me Love me Love me Love me Love me Love me I'm so Ugly Ugly Ugly Ugly Ugly Ugly Ugly And I'm nothing Without you Was this a song? Probably. Looks like a song. Seems like a song to me. Nobody should ever hear this. Define…”nobody” The Song has become a number 1 hit radio sensation. What the fuck is my life. What the fuck is your life. I don't know what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuuuuuuck . Speak of the devil— (Terrified) what? Dillon Francis is here? What? No—it's just Skrillex, he's just...here to collect. What?! What, dude—Skrillex is your plug? Uhhh. For what? Where else am I gonna get premium space bass? Aaahh Gasp I knew it! I knew something about you was really Skrilly. Hella Skrilly. *doorbell rings* Ok, no Skrilly in front of the— He is magically just, suddenly inside. In front of the what? The two stand starry eyed in amazement. ...hey… X2: hey… Should we step outside? Oh, come in— —I did. I see that. (Lol )Right in He did that. He always does. This...transaction is private. It's fine. You guys are alright—maybe—breathe a little— —large gasp, has not been breathing since Skrillex...what did he even do. He like, apparated No—apps—no. There's no fire. He didnt apostate. Alright then, teleport. That silently? Yeah, I mean teleportals also are like: —actual teleportal, which is a huge, very not quiet, black hole like vacuum with lots of colors, lots of light— Oh. Well, how did he get in, then? He shifted. “What the fuck is Shiffted!?” The SupaCree and The Skrillex share these commonalities: *S13 (13th power ) —- Dude! I got the key! You got the key, yeah, it's one of these. A bunch of keys in a wheelbarrow. Dude. What. The fuck. I don't know! I just know, she told me the key was on the key ring WHAT keyring dyde?! This is just a wheelbarrow full of KE*T! [wheelbarrow full of ketamine] AHEM. *wheelbarrow full of keys!! (He produces a heavy chain which appears to (not really) link the keys together We...keychain. —Meanwhile— God deletes all the Florida Keys—except for one— _________________________ I will not “go” to the “Skrillex Reddit” Go to that place. No way. We are going to the internet for ONE thing—and one thing only. “We are gonna skate to one song, and one song only. BALL SO HARD MOTHERFUCKERS WANNA—“ No. One thing. Yes, I thought it was Skrillex. We never go online for Skrillex. Okay. Not even shopping. Alright, let's go. You don't even know what we're going for I hope he hears this She says “I hope he makes it” And by she, I mean me And I've been prayint for a way to try to say this stuff— Spit it out Turn it up— Woah...okay! Okay what? What are you gonna do with all this Skrillex? Uh… …? …Just throw it out. Throw it out!? Yep. Why would you do that? *Shrugs* Don't need it. Don't need it!? Yeah, I just said that. Are you serious? Yes. Throw it out. No way. If you're gonna do that…I'll take it! You want it? W--Fuck yeah! For what? I don't know. I'll think of something. Okay. Yeah? Yeah...whatever. Yes! ...okay….Just--come help me lift this. “The Great Big Book of Skrillex” This...is just an Encyclopedia. ...you bought encyclopedias? I needed them for my library. ...you have a library? It isn't finished yet. It isn't...finished…? Not yet. They're installing the elevator. There's an elevator? Of course there's an elevator; it just doesn't get to the library. Yet. I meant— Come on. What did you do to my house ? Well, after I put the fire out— What fire? The main one. —there were, of course, several smaller fires— What The Hell? And now there's just that one. A fireplace? When did I get a fireplace? Well, I needed an easier way to get in and out. —where does it go? Out the chimney. —wait, did you just say “in and out”? That sounds good. I wish they had a vegetarian menu. French Fries? Uh huh. Is that it? I think so. —Meanwhile— GIVE ME ALL OF YOUR SAUCE. Ohhh, get ketchup. Sorry, we're out of ketchup. Out of ketchup? Yes. Okay, can I just have special sauce then? We are out of sauce. What. Every sauce? All The Sauce. GODDAMMIT DILLON FRANCIS. I hope this isn't like the Skrillex thing. We're still under the limit. Kick it. Obscured by a plume of misty light gray clouds, an entire city is enamoured and mystified by a mysterious force, as The Skrillex lands on earth, from deep space. __ Ah, it's gonna be like this again. “kliptown empyrean” Kliptown with a K-- Ooh, lets move to Korea Town! Wait. (bass) ___ ___ ___ ___ Remember the birds? I remember everything. No, you don't (hey) I remember everything. (Hey) That's great What's this? A wedding ring What's a “wedding ring”? Let me explain. Hey, I just might be a writer Hey, This happens every day-- This makes me crazy. Hey, This is the time and place What is “time”? Let me explain. Hey, This is what being a writer means; It means the typing comes out lyrically and everything is rhythmic; but recitation makes interpretation Different Oh, I get it; It's blank. No names, I'm saying Anyone who wants to say the line can say it, If it makes sense. __ So, you're telling me; I can go anywhere in the world… Yes. Anywhere in the-- Paris. I'm not quite white enough. Nobody cares, it's-- 10 karats. Delicious. No, it's--karats, it's a measurement. Why would you bring melatonin to this event? I have problems sleeping. Why would you fall asleep at a RAVE. Why? I'm still sleeping. I'm still needing attention; Why didn't you just leave me? Just leave me! Just leave! Just-- Adjust. ...have you seen this? What is it? It's a galaxy. No it isn't. It's about to be. No it isn't, it's just-- “Let's blow this popsicle stand” MOM!!! (((WOW))) What happened? I don't know, it just ended. What do you mean “it just ended?” It did, it just-- MOTHERFUCKER! What? Well, here come The Men In Black... and Skrillex. (Ohh, I get it.) ((You should get it, you're the one writing it.)) Oh shit, did you just say Skrillex-- Yeah, Skrillex-- Did someone just say-- DON'T say it again. Please. I gotta go. Go?! Go where? If he's here, i”m late-- Late for WHAT? Your set is in 10 minutes! No, it isn't, it's in 9. (It's Twelve, actually) This isn't it, is it? This is it. Then where's Skrillex? Skrillex? Skrillex!!! GODDAMMIT. S Ū P A Skrillex gives me angina. [SKRILLEX = ANGINA.] I —And vertigo. S Ū P A And now, vertigo— and I only recently found out what that even is. ME I'm so sick of Skrillex MYSELF —Sick of Skrillex— I I hate Skrillex. CUT TO: SKRILLEX SKRILLEX: ...okay, fuck this. S Ū P A C R E S Fuck this motherucker! SKRILLEX; Fuck this job. S Ū P A C R EE I— HATE HIM— SKRILLEX —I hate this. S Ū P A FUCK THIS SHIT. SKRILLEX ...fuck this shit. S Ū P A I AM OUT. [SKRILLEX just leaves.] -!!!- THE END. I love what you did with the tectonic plates. Thanks. And the bubonic plague. Well, you can't just throw poop in the streets. Humans! ___ Skrillex?! Wait, seriously, Skrillex? We have Skrillex. You do?! Of course we do! Don't be ridiculous! Skrillex. Skrillex is ridiculous. Skrillex is ridiculous, yes. ___ Skrillex and Dillon Francis fight for the win, as they battle for their "biggest fan" and vets*bets are placed to see which 'body of work' is completed first. BODY OF WORK. I said. That--that's my entry. So. It doesn't matter, anyway. I've got more scenes. Of course you've got more scenes, it's more cost effective. She's got a sick business model. Oh yeah, where's this 'business model?' It's at your mom's house. (Good, she's very organized) (Yeah, I bet.) (...how much?) -------- Skrillex is ridiculous. Skrillex is ridiculous, yes. ___ Chak Chel, I'm almost done with the list-- Then where are you? I'm...on my way back, I'm just having a little trouble understanding the last thing on the list, it just says - Skrillex-??? Yes. Like...the person? Precisely. ...what do you want me to get from Skrillex? Just go get him. ...and then what? Bring him here. What! His head springs up toward the sky. Looking directly "at God" You want me to bring him to you? I don't think that's a good idea! Of course it's a good idea, Dillon. It's my idea. What the fuck. Don't give me your fucks right now, I don't have time, Dillon. Just go- How am I supposed to explain this? One thing at a time. [She hangs up him; he looks at his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and dials a number.] Hello, you've reached Skrillex; We are reviving more calls than we can answer at this time. Your call is very important- Please hold, and your call will be answered in the order it was received. Soft music begins to play. What the fuck. Your estimated wait time is: One hour and, fifteen minutes. The music resumes. …wow. He places the phone into a holster over the dash and programs his navigation to a location on the map, (Later) >>you had ONE job. I had a lot of jobs, actually--i was even a firefighter, at one point-- ONE JOB. That was a long list! Why do you ask? This man, who is he? SUPACREE has been procrastinating telling SONNY anything about anything; However, Everything is Everything. SUPACREE Listen, Skrillex told me something-- SONNY Skrilllex?! You talked to Skrillex?! Where is he?! SUPACREE Look, I don't know exactly. But it said SONNY It's a “he” SUPACREE ...he said--and I mean like like, really really clearly-- SONNY What'd he say? SUPACREE “I am leaving.” SONNY ...He said that? SUPACREE That's what he told me. SONNY I knew it. SUPACREE Wait, you knew?! SONNY I always knew. ...what part is this? I guess this is the part before we go into that whole backstory? What whole backstory? Which--backstory? How Sonny met Skrillex. Oh! Wait, wha--? THE END ________ J3SŪS Pïzz∆. The Diva SupaCree and the Egomaniac Skrillex are the worst possible combination of people possible. [Note* Because she has gained worldly powers through weath and fame, she has no Spirit magic, making her cosmic creation ability react randomly in heightened states of panic,anger, and tantrums--whuch often result in the uncontrolled (and unexplainable, mostly) accidental shits through time and reality, usually working in her favor, however feeding the fire which continues to consune her soul with the worldly evils of capitalism. A large dark and ominous karmic justification, less of her actions than by her attitude, is set in place to manage her habits, resetting her on the path to saving humanity.] This version of SupaCree is overly confident, sometimes pompous, in love with herself (even in the mirror, as her Omnipotence and awareness grows stronger in the other bodies of her collective conciousness.) Being enabled to do whatever she wants, she begins hosting large scale productions, flaunting other the top and sometimes nonsense "showing-offs" , even going as far as to hire an entire lineup of the worlds Top DJs just to watch her preform, giving 3 VIP tickets away to another concert, where they are escorted from yo her set to preform as spotlight artists, after having insures that they would bomb on stage--beginning as a Rap Battle, where she totes a Golden and rhinestone hammer, which she uses as a prop--but as the cosmic power from within acts with intention the hammer takes on a life of its own, controlled by the telekieisi of the princess through another dimension; after the hammer eliminates the X and Dillon Francis, Pasqualle (actually Dillon Francis) is spotted out in the front row, and ousted as a time unraveling fraud of conciousness, then transforming into a gavel, this beginning the judgement of the above-ground portal of punishment, as it plunges the party goes into dungeons and alternate dimensions as The Diva SuoaCree and The Egotistical Skrillex basically battle to the eventual death of thousands instantly, as they "beat the fuck out if eachother with bass" collapsing the mainstage and sinking through a giant Rabbit Hole as the San Andreas fault line begins the apocolyse as depicted in 2012, Arriving in Hell, creating a second stage inside the Rave Cave Satan Created--where they have the CRAZIEST raves. While the battle between good and evil has officially begun, as the intergalactic space race to locate the planet at the exact right time space, era, and age becomes reckless, creating voids in space, creating a now expanding outward compressing inward collapsing contraction, the Multiverse and it's ever expanding realms are collapsing and colliding as reality shatters, a concept concivable by the extra terrestrials of advanced conciousness and evoked evolution--but it's hell-meets- heaven on earth as portals between worlds, basically, the best, most horrifying lazer light show in history, allowing fictional characters and science fiction to become reality,as worlds collide into one. The humans trapped in a eaveless covid 19 are blissfully ignorant, raving at home--meanwhuke the world, while also fighting a war where literally anything goes and everything is everything, as the laws of physics or any science ever apply. The occult magicians are at an advantage, able to harness the magic of the changing alignments, as the Ascended Masters plans to move the planet, keeping it out of the Global Government pact between the Intergalactic Planetary Waste Management and specifically The United States, as the evil Government--the same that launched the multiple attacks on both the Original Cree, SupaCree and The pSupaCree, still hatching plans within it's branches ran by white suprimisests and cult leaders or religious and prestigious organizations of protected traffickers, drug lords, and other evil rich people who continue to work towards the irreversible, certain and complete death, from which she cannot ressurect. The certain death SupaCree results in a I TOLD you she would be here! No WAY (At Skrillex) Whose that guy? WOOOOOOAAAHHH. ...Did you get it? After this, we're done--right? No more of this sh- Did you get the Laptop? *Sighs* Yeah, man--I…Yeah. It's right here. Good. None of this is "good", okay--this is the total opposite of "good", this is *not* good. It's ruining her life. You agreed. I didn't think it would go this far--I mean--Everything? Everything is Everything. Where is it? ...it's...here. *sets it down on the table* K. Now get out. (He puts his hands up mockingly) yeah dude, I'm out. We're like, good, right--? Like, I don't need anymore bad karma-- Oh, now you wanna be "good" You know what I meant. This is fucked up. She prays for you. Maybe now she'll realize she should be praying *to* me. *Befuddled, over it* Alright dude, good luck with...whatever…Just...Don't call me anymore. When have I ever called you directly? Just don't. He walks away, bursts out of the front doors frustratedly. Leaving the lair, Dillon is snatched, scary kidnapper style. Trying to reach the plug; it goes to voicemail, then immediately recieves a text. Sorry, my schedule's pretty hectic. I got class all day and then I'm going out of town. Ok. Sorry love. Damn...now what am I supposed to...huh Later Guy: well, I don't have any of that here, but what about this? He pulls out a Skrillex (after we are introduced to the dimension where the Skrillex becomes a popular device--but much like a googleflab (from Rick and Morty), it has many ambiguous uses. her eyes light up, as the Skrillex begins to glow. Oh...that…? Does it bother you? ...um… Go ahead. I...uh...I can't. You can't? Well why not? I just don't...really… Skrillex anymore. Why not? Everybody loves Skrillex. ...Yeah. C'mon. Try It Out. (Oh, God.) (('Oh God' WHAT? I'm busy.)) (((Go, quickly, please.))) I think...I think I'll skip that. What, are you trying to be a nun? ...Uh… Angel: you'd be a terrible nun. ...uhhh... Angel 2: shuttup. Hey. No? Suit yourself. It's here if you change your mind. ...Thank... you. The man walks away, and she lets out a slight sigh of relief. Angel: Don't be a pussy! What are you doing here? Angel: Telling you to STFU. I didn't say anything. Angel: SKRILLEX THE FUCK UP. Wow. Angel: Be a man! I'm not. Skrillex! No. Angel No? What's no? Skril--!! Angel 2: shutthefuckup. Thank you. Angel: what?! Angel 2: Ignore him; listen to me. Acceptable. Angel 2: You need Skrillex. Unacceptable. Angel: what, why? What is wr--(ong with you?) Angel 2: shhht! Look, this is important. Who sent you… ? They point "up". You're going to have to be a little more specific than that. Skrillex first, specifics later. Nokay. Both: NOKAY!? I don't--do that anymore. We know, look--just--youre not thinking clearly right now. I need you to focus. Focus how? Janie didn't even pick up the phone, I haven't heard from her all summer. How am I supposed to focus without-- Skrillex. Stop it. No, that's Fisher. Both: Shuttup. No, you Shuttup. Both up you shut the fuck-- ! Say it again. I'm past that part of my life. Technically, your Death. Yes, so let me rest in peace, please, without Skrillex. There is no peace without Skrillex. That makes, the opposite of sense. Just--look--its--You want to finish your project, right? I'll finish it… In this lifetime? Oh, now I'm alive--I thought I was dead. Uh-huh. Since when? Since S-- *flustered* Say it again. Shove it. And tell Satan-- WOAH. Simoltaneously Satan!? Oh please, fuck that guy--! You think we came from Satan? Well, Obviously. Oh, honey… Dude, I'm an angel. I have wings! Of course you do. Like Satan doesn't own Stocks at Red Bull. Christ. (Which one?) ((Jesuses: Not it! Jesus: Aha JINX. You owe me a Piñot Ah, Goddamn. God: WHAT did you just say? Jesuses: NOTHING. Jesus: Jinx! Jesus: Aahh--G--)) Christ is right. You got us confused, honey. We came from the other side. To feed me Skrillex? Uh, false. Begone, demons. You really don't--we're trying to help you. I don't need help. You do need Skrillex. You need Jesus. NOT IT. Angel 2: wait, which one? Now you're gonna have to be more specific. I specifically quit Skrillex. Now, leave me alone. You're not alone-- No, that's Marshmello. Shut. Up. Simoltaneously Stoooooopitttt. Ok fine. I guess I'll just-- Jesus walks in I got a call for 'Christ', and then a second one for "Jesus" did you need-- Jesus! Jesus? Oh, wait-- Jesus? Oh my God. I wouldn't bother her right now, she's kind of busy. Bet. Oh, no thank you. I don't gamble. Addictive personality. Christ. Huh, what? What's up? A beat. They all stand quietly (though Ū is the only one visible to the shop owner, who has returned with Pizza. I got pizza! Nice. Oooh! Jesus: Ah, what? I want some…wait, only she can see us, right? Yeah. Solid. Yo, I want a slice of pizza. What kind is it? Whispering to jesus: I don't know! Shop owner: don't know what? Or, what did you say? I didn't hear you. She awkwardly stares forward speechlessly, overwhelmed by the two angels and Jesus directly behind her. Don't just stand there! Say something. Uh. What uh, what kind...is it? Pineapple,pepperoni, jaleneño. Ew. What the fuck-- And we're from Hell? I know Who's this guy? I don't work for Satan, you work for Satan! Jesus: Grab me a slice homie, if I gotta fight the Devil again, I mean--he doesn't look like Satan, but--you never know these days. Really? Make it two. hah. YOLO. Hah. Just kidding. Shop owner: come get a plate. *he gestures to the Skrillex, which glowingly levitates hovering above the countertop, whirring.* You sure you don't want any of this? That? No. That--uhh--i'll just have Pizza. You sure? Skrillex is great with pizza. It is. Jesus: Awh, what? Skrillex? I love Skrillex. *She squints through her sunglasses* The shop owner hands her a plate, she dishes out two slices, as the angels and Jesus bicker beside her; she stands deflatedly, uncertain of her seemily collapsing reality. She presents the plate towards jesus, who looks up from his argument with the angels, enamoured by the Pizza. Jesus: OoOoh yeahhhh. Sprinkle some Skrillex on it. She looks at the Skrillex, which has now started to vibrate and emit a sparkling silver cloud around it. Shop owner: change your mind? No, I just-- gotta-- The Skrillex starts whirring more loudly. She side eyes it confusidely, and shudders. Are you ok? (Echos, until she hears her own voice, exclaiming--) FLASHBACK: *GASP* ARE YOU OKAY? Her eyes widen. I'll be right back. She turns swiftly towards the bathroom; Jesus and the Angels are waiting, cooly and nonchalantly in front of the bathroom doors. As she shoves a paper plate at Jesus, she swings the bathroom door shut-- Jesus: Didja do the Sprinkles? The angels jump as the door slams. Jesus is unmoved, excited for pizza. The male angel shakes his head with a disgusted look on his face. You're a sick man, Jesus. (As he bites into a slice of pizza) hah. Thats what Pontiius Pilot said. Mmm. In the bathroom, Ū panics as she over thinks, sitting on the toilet hunched to think. She lets out a sigh, and as she looks up, realizes Jesus and the Angels directly in front of her, jesus still quite enjoying his pizza. ...Can I help you? We're here to help you. I didn't call for help. Uh, actually,you called me two times. I mean--not *just*-- Are you eating in the bathroom dude? Agh gross… I'm here to answer your prayers, I didn't know anyone had been listening to mine. ...what, dude, you pray for Pizza? Among other things. If I pray for you to leave, will you leave me alone? Prayers are answered in the order in which they are received. Wait, how many light-years did it take you to ressurect? ...light-years…? What?! Oh dang. She doesn't know. Oh, shit--should I have said "Spoiler Alert"? I feel like that's the least Jesus thing you can ever say. Not quite--and not that it matters. I served my time as Messiah. They didn't believe me, 2,000 years later… Nobody believes. Have you read the Bible? Oh, God. Oh, hardly. Oh, please. Wow, okay. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Can [ Skrillex]? I don't think that's a good idea. What's an idea? What would be the point? There is no point,I just want to. Why? It's not as if you haven't already, over and over. It still sounds good. So good you'd really put yourself through how bad it feels? (Like child birth) ((Like Ego Death)) (((Like, Love)) No, I don't know love. You don't? I know what love is. I know what I feel Emotion is the key… How do you feel? Like I want to listen to… What is your favorite album? Specifically, as it pertains to-- Explaining makes it worse, trying to clarify as if you haven't been thinking about it for at least a minute, suggests you know what I mean. What is a minute? A measurement, increments of seconds--60 makes a second. What is a second? I don't know that measurement. I know it's milliseconds, that make up a second,but they're so shirt, nothing really matters. A seco d is short enough. How short? Longer than an instant, but...that's about it. Well, then--whats an instant? Theoretically speaking, the space between nothing and something. So, an occurance of something? Or rather, as something occurs. What happens in an instant? Anything can happen in an instant. Anything? Anything. Like what? I believe, an instant--would set a point at which something occurs, or becomes an instance. Right here, right now Right here! Right now! --right then. All instances, at different places in time. But an instant means,that it happened quickly. Right here, Take a right--on Thyme. I need thyme Instant Sk-- I don't think this is getting better. I don't see it getting any worse. () He's alive was all that mattered fir a moment, but strangely, really, even as this evolves into an almost unbreable soul sweltering-- Soul-swealtering? Yeah. Why that? Because it's not soul crushing. I know that feeling all too well. It's like a. Wait, you can feel your soul? Ugh, yeah. I would hope so. ...what? Or maybe that's The Reason The Reason (Oh please, I couldn't even listen to it right now if wanted to. ) ((Oh, shit I really want to)) (((What was that, even? A panic attack?)) Something. And that's--why I hate myself so much. This sensitivity inside others don't seems to have. That shit hurt. Hurt how? On so many levels. Levels Avicii. Rock N' Roll Well, there's the Straight Razor you've been asking for--two of them, actually right on top of the Bible. Hey, how's that bible coming along? The one I wrote, started in,or Directed? That's… DEEP. (It isn't, that deep.) Hell? The pain. Okay, that shit is deep. Sometimes, I feel like this… whatever is trapped in this body I hate so much, just needs to fly. It really does hurt now, like all the time--sometimes is not as bad--like that panic attack, or a hyperventilation-- Okay, I need to Skrillex. Need? Need? Or, want? At this point, both, think? Why? Because if anything I intentionally set myself spinning was getting to the end of this endless River of-- Elysian Park. The lovers. Pink floyd. Chak Chel's tree. And the animated movie, where Chak Chel was just a "retard, maybe? I don't know" or something dragged along by her brothers who just wanted to party, but end up accidently leaving her and she just keeps time traveling using her magic of nature through water and eventually meeting with The Skrillex when the thing was just a tiny thing that whirred around repeating things and making certain sounds no one would hear for--wait which human era, or where is the thing that came from the Dimisionb where the SuoaCree and Skrillex on the mantle, or the dresser of the Scientist or something who invented these two intricate pieces of alien technology, so artfully and intricately desiged and allinged neatly by the window, where The Skrillex was still sleeping and he didn't even see The SupaCree leaving, alternately it was SupaCree who slept while The Skrillex crept out of the window, gettinng swept up by the giant thing I haven't really even seen, cause it's so big, so big that people just say "wait what is that thing" as it just sweeps the galaxy collecting all these interesting anomolies in space it's LSDream's infinitely expanding vast of bigger-than-a-planet massive thing repeats the phrases from the renegades of light while both expanding and colliding space in time and music side by side and while Bampheramphs and Psychonaughts like Dorothy all collide with other psychedelic fictions of our time which, by the way reminded by the way the Raven's like a writing desk, cause RAven's helping write is and The spider is the plug, a bug and chArlotte lost her mind when in somewhere around Christmas time I sang to silver bells and the vibrations aligned as only time would tell my that I still like to harmonise, and I remember when my cousins in the car who couldn't hear the harmony when we would sing to bars of gospel music, people like to spend their time in bars but I'd just rather look at shooting stars, and stars inside the eyes of drunken stars as I fly, a shooting star as I was stricken by a guy whose name which I refuse to write, but I'd excersise in time with an album that I like, or rather that I love and that's just what it is, I love the man no matter what but wonder what he thinks of someone so fucked up that has nothing someone who has and does everything genius mind mastering magic of music in the least, but I think I just might be obsessed with this celebrity; apparently however, everytime I close my eyes, to pray or meditate, or enter dreams, or take a trip eating anything, actually--just when I do anything it's Sorry Sorry Sorry just forgive me for being me, that's the album that I planned to do one day cause r can double as an n, I've said the n word 37 times, at least I don't know why that number but I hope I just don't have to be this stupid Dillon Francis fan who writes about the stupid things that nobody really watches DJs like I do, but I do cause I used to want to am a I might be a superstar DJ, like I need to be my DJS favorite DJ and the truth detector reads the truth when Supacree finally obliges the bad guys who keep asking who the TimeKeeper who holds the key and I guess that's right on time, as perfect timing binds the Triverse that she is together in the never ending, she'll just keep on searching for her buddy, or her best friend, or her hubby, whatever's possible possibly anything as magic brings about the rounds of tragedy collapsing fabrics planets lands and galaxies, dimensions where ascended Masters have to lead the good to defeat evil, SupaCree reset the balance as she laughs with Dillon Francis and she leaves The Skrillex stranded a galaxy with Sonny, as she sees it, cause she doesn't see--its easier that way, but out of mind he cannot be as she's combined with her devine a d has omnopitient exsistance as she visits with the people of her planet in a distant galaxy after the Apocolyltiic shit that just collapsed and vanish just begins, an intermission and an interview session where suggestions of the clips and flashbacks give the population of the planet, none of which are racist, having given all the bad away to Satan, which is fake because she made it up And nothing isn't nothing, Jimmy Fallon fucking loves it cause it's just a peaceful place where no one else can bother him and now it all makes sense, but it isn't the end because it's infinite, like infinite like "isn't this just a about one thing?" But everything happened in an instant, so the clips could go in any order, or we just delete it--bht she can't delete the Skrillex and she hyperventilates as she remembera something makes something makes something happen if you just change your perception to it had to be a positive then lost as fuck is really on the way to "here it is" and "where is skrillex" is the significance of what it is to be significant...it's intricately vivid and colorful, these visions, it's been just a year right now but Ive been learning from somewhere that an instant here is eternities in other places I have reached And "what did getter do?" Is being answered in the frequencies and I don't really care, I'd rather die then live inside a world that doesn't think a damned creating new things all the time but finds attractive pictures in a screen and scrolls and scrolls to like it and he just might cheat if she looks just like her profile right, but does she ever--all the filters for the catfish, tastes like dirt and nothing's worth it if I work this hArd to barely be an urchen on the giant animal, whatever urgens like to pasaste And I am just a person on the other side of paradice I go through all these places on the westside where I've died a thousand times, I don't know why I like it, that's just my life and I like to like my life, but life's expensive when it's nice and I could write all this and never get attention which is fine but I am writing this and never making money, that ain't right I don't really like the money, I just wanna sleep in side. I don't really hate my country, but I'm a vet that died because I said I'd run for president and someone in the white supremacy movement tried to have me killed not once or twice, but by the time I finally tried myself, they didn't even try to pump mys stomach in the white run republican undiscovered bleeding heart, the state that I was born in, which THe Skrillex digs in record time to find Chak Chel inside the SupaCree and then it flies away as Cree before the supaCree cries as she tried to figure out the how and why the mother ship is on the other side And she can her someome tell her to get inside and wonders how the song sounds like a skrillex set, like he was playing live inside her bluetooth set as she just tries to find it, cause it was her spofity, but sounds like all these sounds from guys that she admires dropping bass in side her mind and he was wasted, more than wasted, more than wasted at the time after she died and he was thrown into the world that did collide, the bird that really liked the boy who shot her and the microscope the scientist is eyeing is the scene in black and white and all this writing might be nothing like the points in any time where I'm just running on like raven does, and satalites find wall e and the SupaCree while dancing And I hate the way I just hate the way I can't get it all the way organized and how would I send it to Dillon or skrillex and what if I did this and get no response not a miniscule anything to the time that I put in the time that I wasted if I'm rally just in a life where my punishment is seeing someone die by my side a thousand times and writing everything I've seen while taking time talking to God and asking just to skate his life, while I've been pleading with the devil that he trade his death for mine and I become a tye died crypt keeper with diamonds on her sythe and I'm a psycho psychic psy-something oh wait, I like psy , but I remember blasting Skrillex out my window in the night the northern lights would dance and sing as I left my volume high in 825 where I was writing things for tv screens just leaving fiending for a cigarette and I get frostbite cause I cannot buy the gloves I need, or food to eat or anything at any time, I give my life to guys like Sketti and see Dammit all the time, and I never even got to tell Feysha fucking bye but just decided I'd leave dubstep on, which no one really liked it's like 09 or something, I don't know, it was another life, the title song I'd write to Vibrate but I didn't know the vibe just might be high enough from playing bass beside the northern lights for universal occurances or the torture that this is for everything I wish to be eventually granted either by death, or by snu snu, I refuse to live through poverty when all of me died in that room where the car where the place that the time where my daughter and son died. I haven't been write ever since. The pain to work another job I hate, not worth it, to stay chained to the ex who made me hate my entire being, because everything was my fault and my fault and my fault and my mom the default resulting in the revolting ball of all the ugly bodies in the world that's just this damaged sack of whatever road I'm on, but it won't be long, now, the monkey said and the monkeys dead and the monkey is me, if the white supremacy guys talking rught--or I'm an idol that might have the thing the world needs, but it can't see cause people have eyes and I just have love in my love and my love is my art is my I just can't get off this rollercoaster ride Scatta I died . But Choppa burned down the whole ride, I only got to ride it once, but it's fine--if he's been in hell since the time of the album where I liked to fly on the luggage carts flying as I'd do a job I didn't like But that was back when I was fine with making nothing for my time Now I'm either making someone that I really really like Or I'm dying, I would love to live If I could live inside. Satan runs my mother from the other side but I am really just my mother, who can also travel time. How'd I do that Oh, I remember thinking that it might be funny to have actor Jallel White arrive in cameos as-- Fuck this. Oh right, the roomba in the room that just Honey, come home please--we are worried about you. Heaven has been calling for while now. Maybe the dimension this makes sense in is in the next realm. That's just it. There is no knowing. I'm starting to get a clearer picture of it. You said the vision was vivid. Which Vision, most Visions are vivid. This is just inside your head. It's all in my head. Occult Classic. Nice. $40 for a long sleeve. You would wear it. I would buy it if I didn't have my pride and $40 I'll apply to something else. Like flying back to the town you said you'd burn down and your ex denies but threatened that the gang he's in will kill you-- That's what you'd like, right? Death, just as long as I die. It can't be suicide, the sin that left me punishing and writing sides for Dillon Skrillex Roiland That's a glib glob So am I. The longest drive that never was, was just hallucinations, right? And Chak Chel's sweat lodge before you found the rock where all the butterflies TH3 D3VILS D3N A deal with the Devil turns into a wild goose chase through Hell, after 'ASCENSION' CROSSOVER: The Ascended Masters SunnÏ Blū Saga Soundtrack: It Father Said,Skrillex 12th Planet Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Much Ado About Sunnï Blū Something Sunnï This Way Comes The Suite Life of Sunnï Blū I don't have any love left Just bitterness See to this, Hear to this This infinite pit I live in is just Limitless, It's endless shit I should just end it I should just end it I should just end it Isn't it time we get rid of this planet Animal magnetism It ends in headonistic and satanic Black magic rituals Marilyn, you fool I see right through you Evil eyes, and all the lies Never nice,. I won't supply you with the times Miss, miss Ms. Mrs. Marilyn Moore, maybe Oh, poor me, I see That'll be the day I bleed That'll be the day I bleed That'll be the day I bleed Into the sink Or into the sea Whatever suits me You just do what you want with your body Do whatever you want with my body, When I leave it, If it's not me It's not any concious being I'm just being honest, if Honesty is the best policy And polished lips is all I see Inheritance is all it means to be free If you inherit anything, You're better off than me If you can catch a man Without a personality Just hang me loosely from a noose Upon my very favorite tree Just tie the noose around my neck Display for everyone to see Just tie the noose around my neck The best of UCLA breeds The fallen angels, wicked saints Tainted flesh, Late postmates, Mistakes and meth to make the grade My love is fading Live is faded Love is blind and Love is jaded Close my eyes, though they are shaded Those remind me of a love I wish I hated I wish I hated him I wish I dated more I wish my name was Moore But Mrs. closed the door Evil sacred magic spells A tainted, bloody wishing well Well, my friends I wish you well If I could damn myself to hell I have I never left this place. The Beginning of The End of The Infinite Skrillifiles. I thought it was infi-- “The Blue Eyed Skrillex” It was weird. Sonny's unborn son travels back from his future and winds up in a... What does he want? To go back, I'm assuming. This scene? Is it written? It might be. How's this? Don't do this. I have to. ___ Oh YES—we were tie dying! Oh shit, now I remember. ___ DR Ya'll. Skrillex is an alien. OWSLA We know this. DR No, I mean-- like, for real. OWSLA Yeah. He is. Wait, Doctor WHO? Exactly. “DOCTOR WHOWSLA” (Lame.) EVERYONE We already knew that. DR No. But I mean, on some real shit-- OWSLA WE KNOW DUDE. Oh. [THE SKRILLEX (A Giant Alien Spacecraft) is Unveiled] What in the fuck sauce. [Siri Plays Duck Sauce] No, Siri--Okay, you know what? I'm not even mad. I love this. [Mini Dance Break-- Suddenly the Skrillex is activated by th--] Ohhh, I get it. Because, remember, it runs on-- Yassssss!!!! What the-- WOAH. What just happened? How'd you do that? I did not! Yes you did! It wasn't me! THE SKRILLEX: IT WAS U. Oh My God. What the fuck! This is crazy! I KNOW DUDE-- Are we terrified or astounded?! I AM SKRILLEX. AHHHH! PORQUE NO LAS DOS? THE SKRILLEX PLAYS ‘PORQUE NO LAS DOS, BY SUPACREE What is this? I love it. [Miniature Dance Break, even amidst the chaos Wait... I wrote this song. Wait--you did? This is you! Damn. That's fire. This is hot. You wrote this? Yeah, but...in the future. Wait, I thought there is no future. There has to be, Skrillex is in it. I AM SKRILLEX. Apparently, this is him. No it isn't! It is him. It has to be. But it isn't. It's him, he's just screwing with it. Who is this kid? What is she even doing here with us? She's going to help us find him. Close...but no. What do you mean? We've had several hundred experts listen-- There are several hundred ‘experts' in Skrillex. Several Thousands, more precisely, in this specific field of study, mind you. I do mind. This is a very serious matter, miss. Over it. I beg your pardon? Mind Over...Nevermind. But I do. *shrugs* Hm. The Audiobook Part II A funny series of chapters, if you can get through the burning tears of heartbreak. (Recorded January 2021) *Trigger Warning* Disclaimer: Sometimes, the truth hurts. Don't Kill Yourself. -LEAKY SPOILER BELOW- The Infinite Fandoms Are Watching Via Interdimensional Cable in Real-Time Live Action. SONNY/ SKRILLEX It wasn't me. SUPACREE Okay, Shaggy. (What the fuck is that supposed to mean?) ((All the DJ's will get it.)) SUPACREE So I guess this is not your sweater. SONNY/ SKRILLEX (Squints, guiltily lying.) No…. SUPACREE Oh, ffftt-- reat. I was only holding onto it because I thought it was yours, and actually gave a whole fuck about it. My mistake, fuck. SONNY/SKRILLEX ...right. SUPACREE So you don't mind if I just... burn it, right--? SONNY/SKRILLEX You wouldn't do that… SUPACREE Um, I might-- SONNY/SKRILLEX DON'T-- SUPACREE Don't what? Light this--not your--but completely random--sweater on FIRE? What might that do? [She flicks the bic.] SONNY/SKRILLEX STOP! SUPACREE Oh. Why Sonny? (Woah, how are these two on a first name basis?) (I told you he did it.) CUT TO: Jesus and his angels also really enjoy watching this show. Jesus has been on extended vacation for quite some time; He lounges carelessly, snacking on pizza in a cloudy, albeit, smoke-filled paradise. Two of his favorite Angels occasionally accompany him, carrying out tasks throughout the inner dimensions. JESUS Ohhhooo, Christ, I knew it. ANGEL 1 He is fucked. JESUS He's been fucked, now he's just done for. CUT BACK TO: SUPACREE Is this your sweater? SONNY/SKRILLEX (Guilty) ...it might be… SUPACREE I know it's your sweater, asshole! SONNY/SKRILLEX Ow! Okay! Fuck! [The BODYGUARD steps in.] CUT TO: Most DJs have interdimensional cable, and take guilty pleasure in watching the series unfold, sometimes working themselves to manipulate circumstances in the favor of the desired outcome. DILLON FRANCIS Oh, this Is getting W E I R D. ALLISON WONDERLAND It was always weird, now it's getting good. DEADMAU5 He is so fucked-- CUT BACK TO: BODYGUARD Hey,watch it! SUPACREE (To Bodyguard) Watch It? You watch it motherfucker! [The BODYGUARD steps back cautiously.] SUPACREE (CONT'D) My bodyguard will eat your bodyguard and--!! BODYGUARD Oh man…. FOUR TET Is that really your sweater? SONNY/SKRILLEX ...yeah… CUT TO: FANDOM How did she get his sweater!? CUT BACK TO: FOURTET Dude! How did she get your sweater? ON INTERDIMENSIONAL TV: How did she get his sweater?!!! SONNY/SKRILLEX I don't know… (I know how) SUPACREE Yeah Sonny, how did I get your sweater??? How did I do that? SONNY/SKRILLEX I--don't know! You probably stole it from my house! SUPACREE I don't even know where your house is! SONNY/SKRILLEX Google knows where my house is! SUPACREE GOOGLE KNOWS WHERE EVERYONE'S HOUSE IS. FAN She has a point. In the reality where it's a live-action, realtime gameshow: {DING} HOST A POINT! SONNY/SKRILLEX WHY ARE YOU SO OBSESSED WITH ME? SUPACREE OK, RIHANNA. {DING} HOST ANOTHER POINT! CUT TO: ARMIN VAN BUREN is watching in literally every-possible infinite dimension, via a multitude of flatscreens, within his megaship. ARMIN Damn. CUT BACK TO: SONNY/SKRILLEX Your references are outdated. SUPACREE Well so are you. Here. [She tosses his sweater at him.] DILLON FRANCIS (Leaping up, distrubed) What is she doing?! DEADMAU5 (Sipping soda smugly through a straw.) Woah, she loves that thing. SONNY/SKRILLEX What? I--I don't want it---keep it. SUPACREE I don't want it. Take it back. SONNY/SKRILLEX No! SUPACREE Okay! [She flicks the Bic, Lighting the Sleeve On Fire] SONNY/SKRILLEX. Are you STUPID? SUPACREE No, worse; I'm SKRILLEX. {DING} HOST THATS A POINT! Well, That's III. CUT TO: ALICIA KEYS is a guest star on one of the infinite television shows in which this takes place; She reprises her classic song on stage in front of a live studio audience, as the events are projected on megascreens behind her. ALICIA KEYS This girl is on FIRE!!! SUPACREE So's that sweater, isn't that significant, or something? SONNY/SKRILLEX Oh, shit--yeah--Hey-- [Emptiness] Then: A Portal Opens. The Audiobook Part III Copyright Protected by Writers Guild of America, West ‘Thieo' makes his final wish (for his truest and everlasting love) to his appointed Acceded Sorcerer; but there are trials he must endure and obstacles to be met before his wish come true— C'Esmett— A warrior princess raised to rule is on the brink of going rouge, after she is betrayed by her betrothed —her calling to become queen is imminent; yet she must overcome boundaries set by tradition, facing the powers-that-be to strengthen and master her own. Her ancient knowledge, ascended sorcery, and intrinsic healing mysticism— amongst other gifts of nature (a seer, fortune of truths; being of light) Into The Future A Divine Psychic's Reaffirmations of The Reflective Premonitions from A Life Lived Infinitely There's no doubt that I have been unbreakably and unbearably tied to the future which I once foresaw, and still oftentimes do with the reminders of each lucid love once set in place as a code, a language spoken between those of us in this realm, and those ascended beyond the duty of this existence. Though names continue to blur and confuse the true presence of either's auras. I've come to believe almost to a point of knowing the connection between myself, Dillon Francis, and Sonny Moore—Respectively and as a conglomerate the latter mentioned a fluid and translucent reflection of myself in every sense that all he is up to this point is all of what I am, and also am not. Though careless now in my regards to that of what may actually happen behind this point, there are broad visions of certainty pertaining to the realm of infinity, with the extended knowledge of what has already, and what will happen, if allowed to be so. Still, careless in the overall outcome, I can only help to wonder which circumstances I have received not in the energetic form of thought or imagination, but in the broad and astral cosmic visions of what lie ahead, as I have finally come to gracefully l accept and respect my very psychic sensibilities. Annie's just another body Men like bodies I'm just another heart, but Men like bodies We are both broken, but Men like broken bodies Broken hearts are just Impossible responsibilities Irresponsible possibilities I'm not Annie I'm not Claire, Not Marilyn Not Supacree Not Skrillex...or, Sonny Not anybody that has to be Something or anything For anybody's anything I'm nothing nothing Nothing nothing Nothing nothing Nothing nothing Sorry I'm Amy My baby, he Drops the album, goes on tour I'm crying on the kitchen floor But I'll be at the bottom Of every bottle In the eyes of every model In the smile of every dancer Behind every mirror Today and tomorrow All this impossible Irresponsible, improbable Honorary God-awkward Opera of songs is Converted to a catalogue I'm sorry I bothered Don't knock, if Opportunity comes, Just rocket. The Audiobook Part IV [Scary Monsters and SupaCree] A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us. Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening? The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season? Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural. Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that.

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| movie. | -Ū.

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 4, 2022 57:38

I'm sick to my stomach Absolutely useless in this universe It's twisted Haven't slit my wrists in Half a minute, But it seems a swift solution IMm confused at my existence I have no contribution to society I should just kill myself. Because what's the God honest purpose Of persons with no worth Or accomplishments, even? What's the reason to keep on being When all you see is grief and green? Envy or greed; Either way— Nothing means anything I should just kill myself One less problem in the world, Call it commerce; Somebody oughta make Less than their worth in dollars To scrape me off the sidewalk Where I collide with the 9 bus Or get shot like Tupac, But by a cop I had promised myself that by the time the vegan raw cakes I had my eye on were back in stock, I would end this most recent fast—which had extended past its expected length and had shattered even my own predictions by a long shot—I still didn't feel like eating, and even tempted by the Mango and Lime rendition of the same pasterie I had spotted just before thanksgiving, I had challenged myself to wait to see not just when, but even if the pasterie itself would be restocked—not to mention the pumpkin pie, which I had seen just the day before thanksgiving, almost having allowed myself then to break fast—but I remembered my own challenge; even in the midst of that; thinking ‘that's not the flavor I said I'd break Fast for” and though it was certainly a temptation, I had noted that the cake I had wanted to try was a blueberry raspberry flavor; and, taunted myself with the possibility that after Thanksgiving day, the pumpkin pie may not even make a return; but alas, here I was—still not hungry even for the protein shake I stood in line for—and low and behold, there were a fresh assortment of pies from the bakery, pumpkin, and vegan, alongside the very blueberry raw cake I thought might not be restocked at all ever—and therefore, remembering my promise to myself—honestly astonished that I had pushed through yet another weeks-long liquid-only diet at all, I begrudgingly bought the three items I had intended to purchase before, but had abandoned in-basket on thanksgiving's eve, opting of course not even really to celebrate the holiday at all, resulting in a true fast; alas, while nearly the entirety of the country feasted heavily kn Thanksgiving day, I opted for water and studio time. Now, and for some reason with great quickness, as having fasted so long already was moving like a bullet train at lightning speed—maybe even, I thought, too fast— without rush but still hurriedly carried the three items, seemingly floating on air, to the self checkout, where I purchased all three items which I had no full intention of eating, at least anytime soon; it had been weeks since my last hot meal or anything solid at all, and maybe, perhaps because I felt so blissful in the moment, felt secure and preseved in purchasing the food to keep for when I actually was ready to eat again, after I had secured a proper income and was out of danger of actually sleeping in the streets of Los Angeles rather than above them. I was proud of how fluid my movement had become, how high my vibration rung out around me and —though I had no exact plans on eating anytime soon at all, it felt good to know, almost, that I would eventually have a reward of sorts for all my hard work. LIL BITZ Yo I love my gym. I really do. I fucking love Equinox. Yeah, I'm boujie. I'll go broke on a swanky add gym membership so I can live my life smelling like eucalyptus and business class upgrades. It's so fancy. Do you know they have separate mens and women's playlists? Yes. Like, there's the music that's playing on the floor, But then when you go into the locker rooms, the music changes, it's a different playlist. Yes. I feel it might be a little bit sexist. Maybe. Just kidding. But I do get curious like—‘what's playing on the men's side?!' I think about using my non-bianary status to go see. Like: what's playing over here? What if it's like, some crunk shit?! Cause the ladies side is like, Always some smooth, cool jazzy shit All harmonic, melodic and shit I'm like, What if I go to the men's side and it's like, Lil Jon's new single? I go over to the men's side and it's like: “YEAAAAH. WHAT?! UNH.” I'mma be mad! Cause you know why? The woman's locker room is always some girly shit! Some white girl singing about being left for some other white girl. YeH. I know. It's like, boy bands and love ballads, and breakup songs—which are all almost the same shit, really, honestly. I'm like: What if I go to the men's side and it's like— D12. Remember D12? No you dont. Lol. What if I go over there and it's like, backstreet freestyle on loop. GAY. Guys are so lucky. They don't do anything but fuck, eat, and ruin people's lives. True story. I'm going to the guy's locker room. Fuck it. I'm a guy. I'll ruin my own life, thanks. “YEYUH.” He had sweet brown eyes and beautiful long hair; and at 30 was just the right age, if not too young, but gorgeous nonetheless—I had to pretend at all that I wasn't entirely going mad; I couldn't stop the tears from welling up out of the bottom of my soul and into my eyes — I pretended more than not to be great and good beyond okay, but it was all I could do now just to breathe, and not think about chocolate Rubicon cupcakes—it had now been another 15 days since I had eaten and my weight loss had hit a plateau, as I may have frightened a calorie deficit into my body which read as starvation—still, I must have been looking alright; the handsome Australian man—whose name was Dylan, but still, it irked me, smiled more than I expected him to at me, with his perfect teeth and all. I wondered if he would meet a real perfect Californian girl at the hockey game that night, reminding myself of my undressed body, cursed perchance, and that just as any handsome man seemed to—he probably liked girls, rather than women. He was a bit too handsome for me, either way—and I winced at the possibility of a post-workout cupcake, or maybe even sweet potatoes—maybe quinoa, or the cilantro hummus I had spotted in the prepared foods section at Whole Foods earlier. I swear on all my sons; You're the saddest song I've ever sung— ‘Here's comes another one' I'm just around the bloc If you want to talk about it —but i dont want to talk at all, About it… Maybe after Equinox and Coffee I had missed my chance with the beautiful Australian man, Dylan, after all; and even after feeling like I could have taken my shot, I backed down, retreating into my bed for my first meal in 17 days. He left sometime after midnight never to return—- and while my primal instinct had tempted me to pounce at the opportunity, I reminded myself I was the fat girl in the story; he was perfect after all, and, though I had become quite magnificently slim, the sagging skin around my midline still kept me from true freedom, and although I had thoroughly decided that breaking my celibacy was absolutely the wrong idea under any circumstance, the certain sadness that it gave me watching the beautiful man walk out the door resonated with me to the morning; I thought about the type of Kayla Lauren a perfectly beautiful foreign attractive man could find on Tinder; a cosmopolitan girl with her own car and apartment—and considering he was so attractive, and even well hung—the kind of actual girl that deserved such a treasure. As for myself, I knew that I may never love again as it were, spending a lot of time in reflection of what it would take to allow myself to feel anything for anyone, after Jon, and after Sonny, and after Dillon, who had all for the most part left my heart in pieces, and my soul shattered throughout the Inter dimensions of time and space searching for something, anything other than my putrid self. The Aussie himself, though was so pretty that I had almost instantaneously become somewhat attached, and hadn't known why; perhaps it was after all that I was his first or at least easier choice, and I had decided myself not to complicate anything with sex. What I needed, anyway, wholeheartedly was not a tryst or short term fling; I needed to be held, and heartfelt, and kissed in places I had forgotten were still apart of me. It made no sense to cry about it, at all, but my mind and heart had no intention of letting it go—I was alone in the world and seemingly forbidden from all human things; love, food, and pleasure always just out of my reach and of course—comfort, home, and companionship the absolutely unattainable. Of course, to my pleasant surprise, after burning some sage and working my way through my pile of half-damp laundry, the clicking of the automatic door lock perked up in my ears, in through the swinging door came the Australian man, quite looking like he had just rolled out of bed—as it turns out, he had—apparently leaving late into the night not for a midnight tryst, but for a good night's sleep—almost funny, because I had thought to offer him some ear plugs just before he left—then thought not to bother him; he actually was so perfect looking that he did make me nervous, even after a couple days of chatting; it seemed all together that there was a vibe, but I didn't know how to follow it—and I wondered if I would ever be normal or ever able to talk to the opoosite sex again. It was almost unbearable now; I couldn't think to bring myself to a proper orgasm in a room with four people— and sometimes all I could think about was sex. Actually, it was my most forward and prominent thought—i began to think much like an animal, just keeping intact my inhibitions as not to let my primal nature give way to each and every impulse I had begun the day renewed with a sense of high energy, having eaten perhaps just the right foods so that k actually became nourished, and not over full, despite the cupcakes added to the ensemble of otherwise incredibly healthy pickings; sometimes I did amuse myself with how healthy I had become; and though it was delightful to think about eating certain things—especially chicken wings as of late— I knew I wouldn't, or couldn't, and felt almost good about being “bad” with an assortment of health foods I seemed myself indigent, but to any common other, especially an American, would be considered atrociously healthy. Who the fuck cares about anything? Especially mediocre me Must have been the weather Or something in the water Whether we want to admit it BEYONCÈ, for the win!! It was my fastest run im awhile; and Esther than. Assuming it might have been the plant power from the sweet potatoes and quinoa I had allowed myself to feast on, I attributed it to beyoncè, or rather Renaissance, as I had almost forgotten what the album looked like. Beyoncé's vocals were like ribbons of butter, allowing time to psss and my body to love off what I had put on, and realizing I had now been kn Los Ángeles 9 days, that my Fast had been closer to 21 days than the 17 I had counted—but I hadn't counted at all, and maybe that was the important part about it; it had been a wonderful feeling, and though I had eaten, I hadn't quite felt I had left the beauty of clarity of it, and probably wouldn't — my body was slim, even becoming petite; and though I had slowed to a trot in my 9-minute mile—it had only been for a moment, self-motivating by reflecting on all the dick I was missing out on not having a perfect body. At 7.3 miles per hour exactly for 9 minutes and 19 seconds, I thought about the Australian man's perfect teeth— about Sonny's slender physique—about Dillon's superior intellect— and of course—all the perfect women they all attracted, who I was only trying to be. ‘Run. Just—run.' Actually, I couldn't stop thinking about sex at all—at all, that day—the world seemed to have filled with beautiful men, and though perhaps even though it was LA, and I was used to the perfection, my body was in a peak state of fatigue from sexual neglect, and there was nothing I could really do about it. It was safest to stay celibate for the time being, and I knew it—but there was something in me that wanted to love, and I could actually taste the tears I was bound to cry, sexually frustrated and thoroughly unfit for love—physically at least—though I was at least turning out in every other way to be a pretty interesting and overall cool, likable “girl”, I knew by the billboards and bodies I was constantly surrounded by that mine wouldn't quite make the cut. So I stayed clothed, and with my legs closed, at least for the moment. MOVE>< big boss Sometimes the work of the devil is comical at most; in this rendition, The promise that I'd take my first drink with Dillon, If I were really feeling him And here it is, Yet unwritten, Perhaps, a syntax error— No matter how you spell it. If we had sat next to each other. I would have been watching him and not the game—but it wasn't the players that captivated me; as I was still on hold with the bar across the way, where I had strategically left my skateboard, after landing of course there was nowhere safe within the actual arena that I could keep it; I called someone to retrieve it and put it in the lost and found at Tom's Watch Bar, already inside the crypto.com arena—Dylan had floor seats, or something like that, but had purchased for me, one of the seats from a season ticket holder; we went our separate ways, which I didn't mind at all; as it turns out, I was seated in the perfect spot, near the band—with an entire row to myself. I just wanted to see the game—and of course, still in my now very oversized harems and Nike runners, a laidback black sweater—someone as gorgeous as him would probably not rather actually be seen with someone like me; Of course, there were beautiful people everywhere, but assimilating to LA, I just blurred them out of my mind enough so that it didn't hurt that I wasn't one. There's another song here, I know it; Just give me a minute; That's what it is, isn't it? She wants to finish the album— That's what she needs from him, That's all it is, or All it was, Or what it is, Or what it was, Collect another song, or something Get the drugs, and then fuck off It's just last call It's just a bunch of drunks It's just a wonder you're alive It's just another what the Fuck of lovers It's just lust I'm//he's just lost. It's just another; Better not eat for a little bit longer Cause the little one's got him Wrapped around her little finger It was something like being cheated on right in front of my own eyes—not that k had laid any claims to the to-perfect Australian Man, but of course the girl to his left was skinny with hair so long it sat in her lap, and her thick valley girl accent would fool even the most.trained ear into the belief that she was from the actual valley, rather than Santa Barbra—as he leaned more towards her and further away from me I felt my stomach sink— I had refused his offer for a drink, and that had been that, but now I had long enough to become sour in my own self hatred; I was fawning more heavily now over the menu at LA Cafe than I was the Australian man, who I had already admitted was too handsome and too beautiful for someone—anyone like mysel. I realized the same unsettling disgust I had yet to feel again since departing Mexico, after the whole Luis, and I realized this would always happen—there were always prettier girls, or just other girls at all, no matter how pretty they were—and I couldn't bring myself to have a drink, even with it sitting right in front of me. The light skinned girl crossed her skinny leg and laid her petite fist on Dylan's back—and that's when I knew the family feeling of my old self; my role as the ugly girl—and even as I had consumed myself with writing and collecting whatever other experience I could, for some reason I had to choke back tears as I pushed myself away from the bar, luckily leaving behind a far too handsome man that was too busy talking with another girl to notice me quite you exuding myself to the restroom, besides the actual act of exuding myself. Over and over again my entire life it seemed that this had been the pattern; nothing about me, it seemed, was ever really good enough. To actually let myself cry about it would have been asenine—I didn't understand even myself how I had become so attached or attracted in the first place— and though the tears were there, and the feelings to go with them, it would have been silly to let any of it out—the lesson was simple: men were impossible, I was unlovable, unfuckable, and unmoved, for whatever reason. At least the actual Dillon—that is, Dillon Francis, had been far enough out of my mind that nothing at all seemed to matter in hindsight—and now I was hurt. It was worth the experience at least. The funny thing is, I had thought to avoid feeling like this in entirety— I had meant to avoid feeling feelings at all, and especially this one: loneliness, and of course, rejection. Left not entirely right back where I started, but somewhere else—even a new place, as fragile as ever, proud of my solemn celibacy and embarrassed paired with a side of shame about whatever it was that seemed to turn men over and away in less than an instant. You're never gonna love me; The way I need The way I need to be loved You're never gonna love me; The way I want The way I want to be loved You're never gonna love me The way I The way I The way I need to be The way I want to be The way I You're never gonna love me; The way I— The way I— Falling on the the floor; Heart failure— Falling on the floor: I need you, nowhere near I need you; You're nowhere near me No, you You're never gonna love me; The way I need The way I need to be loved You're never gonna love me; The way I want The way I want to be loved You're never gonna love me The way I The way I The way I need to be The way I want to be The way I You're never gonna love me; The way I— The way I— You don't want— No, You don't want to know What I've been through I been here for you, but— I need you here, Youre nowhere near, You're never there You're never gonna love me; The way I need The way I need to be loved You're never gonna love me; The way I want The way I want to be loved You're never gonna love me The way I The way I The way I need to be The way I want to be The way I You're never gonna love me; The way I— The way I— As I started my first shift, setting my backpack down in the corner of the break room, a tiny rainbow piñata with long eyelashes and no smile at all seemed to call to me from its place high up in the corner of the office of the high profile smoke shop back room—it was Gerald. My yes filled with tears and my head with a plume of thick smoke—perhaps I was exactly where I ought to be after all, at least for the moment. I began to ponder lucidly after all who I was really dealing with—‘Who the Fuck really is this “Dillon Francis”?' And, in the turbulent way of motion, without too many moments between each fleeting thought and the next—was Sonny Moore even a real person anymore? ‘What is Skrillex?' And though I thought the same of either men—out of my Legur and dangerously attractive. I myself count even hold the attention of the Australian man, who had even admitted that he only liked dark-skinned girls—not that I believed him, and it bothered me that still, two entire days later, it still hurt quite deeply that he had betrayed and then abandoned me. The lesson learned being: no man could be trusted—not that any woman could either. GET YOUR BASS OUT MY FACE Lol IT WAS NEVER DILLON FRANCIS! IT WAS AÑWAYS DILLON FRANCIS, AND YOU KNOW IT. —ALWAYS DILLON FRAN— —fuckas Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. —nno— Yes. ¿Donde esta horita? Nada: ahorita? Pizza sin carnitas So— KANYE. WHAT. Kanye. WHAT. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT Like out of life? Like, from ME. Yeah, out of “life” What?! KANYE. !?! — Dillon. What. It's time. …time for what? —ah, so you believe In time, do you?! NO. Aa ——!!!!! …and he's gone. — …you sick son of a bitch. …you know what? …what? We'll talk about this later. —no we won't— When you get HOME. I don't have a— [door slams loudly] {EnterThe Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

The One Thing I Know About Sonny Moore.

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 1, 2022 22:11

Elements of Existence.

one thing elements existence sonny moore

N3W W0RLD 0RD3R.

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 2, 2022 22:00

I knew I was being watched at all times, and the more I paid attention to being watched, the less noticeable it would become. I threw up a flare in way of not caring; I ate what I wanted and ran about in an inward frenzy—yet also, in a cool, and outermost calm state. I felt already that I had lost the game; that I wasn't famous yet, and so I wouldn't or couldn't be—I had failed, and so it didn't matter what I did or didn't do. I had no one left to please, however, I couldn't seem to stop writing— and I hadn't been, really. But now, it came about again automatically as it had in the beginning. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't going to be; my feelings were justified, and they had to be, because somehow, they still existed—despite my trying to abolish them as it seemed everyone else had in the way of making and sustaining income. But I was miserable, not doing anything anywhere near what I wanted to, and wasn't making the money I needed to do anything but wake up and exist in a rather unadmirable fashion. @zaexoolin October, deadmau5 I had written galaxies of entries into The Festival Project, and it didn't seem to matter at all— I wasn't making any money from it, and now, I didn't know how to. I hadn't the time or energy to organize the Project into anything understandable to anyone other than myself, and though the whole of it was somewhat complete; if completion was attainable any, in the infinite sense and overall nature of the project itself—but it had not yet been standardized into any format which would even be moderately accepted in the writing world wirh any interest; it wasn't Hollywood formatted and didn't fit the picture for any other adaptable publication—it had its own form and while I very well understood it, it would take a decent amount of explaining to anyone my vision for the massive project. Still, the universe had a way of telling me I was selling myself short and maybe even selling my soul in the exact opposite way as anyone might have chosen to—I wasn't having any fun, experiencing the benefits of actual fame, though The Festival Project's strange cult following had become effective in making itself apparently notable, and I was literally living hand to mouth on borrowed time. Though escaping Vegas by just a hairline, and finding bits and pieces of myself scattered all across Los Ángeles, the notion of becoming homeless and out of my senses loomed over me with every colored person howling and cussing at themselves and at the world—and not that there hadn't been such in Las Vegas—in fact, there were more, as the Nevadan mental health system was far worse than California's healthcare by anyone's standard, and yet— it was more forcibly apparent that rather than by choices, the homeless of Los Ángeles were there by circumstance. Though I hated it, I was willing to work any job that would secure my independent housing, as I had learned to live with very little and stayed content in doing so; a true minimalist, I fancied not what others had as to keep up with the times, but only of things I hadn't. I wanted my own door to shut, my own bed to make—my own kitchen to cook in, and although it came at a cost, the skyrocketing rent in LA was worth it enough, equated to the energy alone in the city. I wasn't anytime soon going to Mexico without a decent amount of money, and more than probably wouldn't be able to keep up the pace of a commission-only job enough to secure a space in LA—but I knew something was coming. After all, there was a coughing demon following me everywhere I went, and so I thought myself to be a pretty important obsession in someone else's mind to put out such a terrible force of energy. It didn't seem to matter much, anything, actually—I wasn't doing anything I wanted, I wasn't getting what I needed, and I was harder working than anyone I met at all. The end of my life could be any day at any time, and so I became reckless in the aftermath of having lost all that I had ever loved. R E C K L E S S Los Ángeles What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey Oh. I didn't know you go here It's below zero where I'm from Cold as the stone you were under, That went unturned until Suddenly, I was at home dear, All alone where All of a sudden you know me; No, Let's not go there— I was in the clear, I was in the clear I was in the air, with you I was in a dream, and then Woke up to care for you Staring at the wall In a cold sweat Oh, there you are again I didn't know you go here Hello, dear Better prepare the proper paperwork Better prepare the proper paperwork Better wear the proper attire; You're said to inspire the choir In your downward spiral Look at my eyes Look at my eyes Look at my eyes, when I lie to you That's just the life of a writer; Live and we die just to love you Then write of it But in spite of it all And everything I stand for; Coming this fall: I could fall for you What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey —Shhh. The brim of my hat, on a pole Where do I get off writing stories? Where do I get off—? Ah Where do I get my glory? Give me my roses, I'm horny Give me more, Moses; I've had it up to here with this nonsense Divine nonchalance and omnipotence God, this is potent You poisoned my apple with acid, I know it Alone in a fortress ‘Four figures is worth it,' I figured Go figure, Addicted to light fixtures, forged as robotix I hope to God i get off of this rocket as polished and Godlike as Ali But nobody gets it, but me and my daughter Who doesn't exist yet Or did, And we're simply reliving the story Instead of just Writing it Riding the bus to the end of the infinite Invisible Infidelity, hell is embellished with heavenly decoratives and eloquent expletives Where the hell is my stop, anyway I stopped paying attention Where the Hell do I get off? —for S— —Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup!!! Watch this Ugh Get it? Stop it, Satan. Stop what? Come on. Stop following me. You like it— —Sometimes it's funny. You're very quick. Could be quicker. I could give you this whole damn city, if you want it. It's already mine. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone else knew it too? Nobody has to know. Oh, but you'd like that. I'd like a lot of things. But not love? What is that? You tell me. Name your price. Are you serious!? How's the weather? I want to make a baby Dhow me that you love me Come inside me, then divide me Bring the joy into my pride Cause I admire you I desire you, Light my fire; I exist to inspire you Dammit. Dammit. —down girl. I told you I'm going to put that dragon to sleep. I'll put it to sleep. Dragons don't sleep! That's a myth! Dragons are a myth! Myths are a myth. If you land that ship here I'm going to make you pay for parking by the minute. Alright. How much? Half a million. Deal. SUPACREE has officially and permanently hijacked Dillon Francis. Where is Dillon Francis? I told you it was cold up here. Don't look at me! Oh what's wrong EVERYTHING. Whats going to happen here? Anything that can. No no! Do t touch it! It's a Tesla! What?! Last year I saw you take a baseball bat to a fucking Beamer! It was Boston! ?! They love baseball Watch this: Satan. I told you— —I wasn't listening. I can be anywhere you are. The US Bank building was indeed high enough to kill you from jumping off of it; I couldn't stop thinking about it, as I stood by the base of it, actually across the street at the library, which I for some reason, had somehow considered as my own. -TAZER- Oh shit. Oh shit. -TAZER- -TAZER- -TAZER- —WOOOOOOOOOO!!! YOU'RE SICK. I love it! One more! WHAT! ONE MORE. (This part is important.) HIT ME BABY, one more time! BRITTNEY SPEARS Hey, shut the fuck up, okay—my kids watch this show! WOOOOOOOOOO. This is nuts. This is out of control. That's a lot of— —Lazers! —Cough syrup. Oh, yeah it is. Wish. what?! Already?! Whats your first wish?! I'm not done yet You have to be— There's a limit?! WISH. OKay, OKAY!! I wish— Oh shit, here she goes. Hide! Ugh! Noorotic, Redman NEW DJ UNLOCKED/ Q-Beet “Q-BEET IS GOD. “ Ok. I had just that very morning imagined myself quitting my shitty job, trading in my business professional clothes for something, anything else—and just finally, once again—being Sunnï Blū. In pondering, looking over my polished and professional appearance, in a collared faux-pearl dress and DKNY boots I actually liked…but it didn't at all feel like me. And while Sunnï Blū also wasn't me, and merely just a character I had created and ended up quite by accident somehow method acting by solid definition—it was still an entirely more enthralling existence, as the character I had created had indeed come into a life of its own and become nothing at all of how I had first imagined, but somehow even better. ‘What would Sunnï Blū even wear?' I had asked myself, probably even too loudly, so much so that the universe with full-throttle intention did respond, in an excitingly timely manner. EXT. WHERE MONSTERS DREAM, DTLA. DAY Oh I love this part. GOOGLE ‘What does Sunnï Blū Wear?' oh my god. what is this. i love it. #lilbitz LA is some shit. Some people in LA are too rich. You're so rich, I can't look at you. You're so rich, you make my eyes hurt. What are you even wearing? lacoste-too-much. Durh. EXT. DTLA FASHION DISTRICT. DAY ‘Can you believe Porter Robinson invented trance? I thought almost too deeply about it for a moment, trying to understand where in my own multidimensionality I was, or where he was, in the grand scheme of things. POOOR-TER ROBINSON. POOR-TER ROBINSON. -lil B. Yes, actually, I do believe that. I could believe that. I invented trance! Uh huh. I am I! Oh shit. I am Porter Robinson. PORTER ROBINSON. Check out my band: Porter and the Robinsons. Yessir. Anywho. The smell of eucalyptus filled my nostrils; someone behind me was annointing themselves with the oil and it sparked up a fire in my brain; I had been trying to become a member of Equinox fitness for years, and had almost always fallen short just in funding, and though something was telling me I would be coming into some sort of money somehow, I was again falling short—it was almost impossible for me to arrive anywhere on time anywhere I didn't want to be; and I didn't like my new job as much as I thought I needed it… Sonny Moore died of a broken heat; I survived him, but I never was the same. That was they day my eyes had turned go hazel— Now comes the day my eyes will fade to grey My eyes will fade to grey. ‘Ugh.' Rooms>< anything I was almost certain at one point or another that— Fuck this—there's a glitch in the matrix! (I thought this was an article on the secret love affair between Allison Wonderland and Dillon Francis!) ((That's not a secret!)) This is impossible. What am I looking at. (Yes, please try to explain to yourself how this is happening.) (this isn't happeninG.) THIS ISNT REAL —-MWJAY TJE FJCU—- WHAT THE FUCK AM I LOOKING AT (Hush, please, before you send up a sign.) There's a signal. Let's go. Let's go?' Where?! To the planet. To which—planet?! The one with the: ‘—THIS ISN'T HAPPENING— ‘ (now you've done it.) You really sold you soul for this? What'd you sell yours for? Same as you, I guess. x__x God is in the shadows, And yet I rise above, Just to illuminate the picturesque, The life that all of us have left to share To live To love To love one another To love one another I judge not a mother, Nor pity a father; I honor them Once and for all, One becomes of us Not then, or after— Now, Right where we are, Under the stars, Or drawing them; A wish becomes a prayer to God Until you are one Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues, The prophets (Of The profits) All will fall or none All is fair in love, But one must fall, First I smell winter in the air. ‘It has to be a dummy company' , I thought. ‘A front for something. ‘ If I was being set up to fail, there were some broad strikes being taken—but still, I wasn't all the way fooled; something seemed off, and If at the very least I was watching my dreams shatter around me, at least I was doing it in Los Angeles against the backdrop of this historic LA skyline on this iconic coastal Mecca, rather than Vegas's dry and unforgiving desert, which for the most part was also littered with homeless, mentally Ill and unbathed Inhabitants—however, strange and bizzare as it seemed, it was as if Los Angeles had less of them. I sat out in on the Whole Foods patio at 8th and grand, which I had never done and somehow also remembered doing, and though temping, the skinny black girl who stopped herself in front of me just to take a sip of her kombucha wouldn't persuade me to start doingso; in fact, I was in a tailspin—very much so in a panic, such that I was actually eating midday, rather than the end of it. The job I had just started seemed a sham, and though there had initially been something that excited me about it, after being late my first day, I almost believed myself to be in a realm where I was doomed to fail, or stuck in a loop as I had been all the rest of my life; then l, it could have been the fact that I was carrying documents with my old name on them—which I had theorized allowed whoever such was practicing black magic against that name to continue doing so successfully. The passport office had apparently ‘made an error' with my documents, and so had delayed me at least by a day or two from completely shedding any remnince of her, to which I would to happy to forget entirely, and—though somewhere in the pit of my heart that I could no longer speak to anyone from my last, pretending for the time being that it didn't exist and was safer; it had to have been narrowed down to two perpetrators for the dark and awful magic that was being used against me, always there but less present when actually dealing with her belongings, family, or friends—and while it may have been her ex husband who forced her to suicide, it may well have been coughs, the photographer for no other reason than love and love alone, in any facet. A fit man with an attractive tattoo seated himself in front of me; I could tell he was attractive, and thought it best to keep him headless rightly so. Today, all the white girls were evil again, but really they always were, and it was me who just cared to notice them—they just needed attention, and didn't seem to do much other than try to get it—not that they had to try. I had learned that I didn't hate them—however, that we lived in different worlds. They couldn't understand me, or find me as attractive as they thought themselves, and their Caucasian male counterparts were trained for the most part not to find African American features as beautiful, scientifically, I had learned. And, while my heart was forgiving, my soul still crept up just to wince at every reflection of ‘ugly' anyone I might have thought to be attractive thought that I was. Sonny Moore is like candy.. …I really want it, but it's definitely not good for me. Good, go on. lol I do have a sweet tooth. Eugh! So then, what does that make Dillon Francis. MEAT. Ew, gross. …I could eat it, but I probably wouldn't feel very good afterwards. Daww. All I need is a DAW And a Dog; And a friend, And a hug, And a car, And a bed— And you out of my head Cause I gotta get I gotta get I gotta get it all on my own, you know And I gotta get out of here But I owe you for something I know it I'll take out a loan In the morning Slowly but surely, Slowly but surely Slowly but surely I'm waking up Run just to run (Gotta run, gotta hide) I'm picking you up (I'm picking you up at 9) Probably shouldn't be driving Probably shouldn't be driving On all this wine; Took my first sip When I saw you weren't mine, but now I'm Picking you up Picking you up at 9 All I need is your arms, And some love, Some songs, And a hug And a road, And a room to go to with you, PAUSE oh shit. I never seen tiesto before. What? Why not?! Cause fuck tiesto. Anyways “Happy birthday tiesto!!!!” Wait, is that his name?! Yeah that's his name! Like his actual name?! I don't know! What the Fuck! Might be worth knowing. I doubt that. His wife is younger than me! Well, good news is, you're getting older. Okay— Wow! This song IS red! Red music for the win. Red music is balls! What! She's from another realm. — MA. What, Jeff. It's excision. What did you say? My name's excision. Sure it is. Ma. What, Jeff. I made a new song. Of course you did. Wanna hear it? Not before breakfast. But it's past noon. So it is— Can I play it? No. What. Why not. I still haven't had breakfast. FAST FORWARD. NO. UNH. Oh, GOD. What? Don't look at me… No Exsision on an empty stomach. Okay. I SAID— SUPACREE Oh, I get it. This shit smacks. ///UNH. Literally, sometimes— Owie… But you know what? I had a good run. Okay. When do we get the rest of the DJs? Huh? Okay, who wants in? *literally nobody raises a hand* Okay, I'll go. Are you serious? Serious as a heart attack. THAT'S how you got in? Heart attacks are a sure-bet! But no! Well then, what happened? Someone broke his heart. Aw, shit. DONT LOOK AT ME. Aw, fucksauce. Nice Nikes. Wanna fight me? Do you like me? I'll give you a black eye; Yikes Three stripes me, I'm a zebra, no white, see? Psyche — #lilbitz I love LA. Sometimes I can't tell if people are wearing costumes or if that's like—their—themselves. Like their true selves. I can't tell. And it's okay. It's really okay. Cause sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm like— Fuck. Who is this guy? Yeah. Or I just laugh I'm like *laughs* “You idiot” But it's whatever! That's my true self. Sometimes. Whatever. Maybe I am in costume! I don't know. Sometimes, I think I'm in a movie Sometimes, people come up and tell me I'm in a movie. I'm like “oh no! Whose the main character” Lol. “I better get out of their way!” Haha or I'm like, “Yeah, I'm definitely the villain; get the fuck away from me.” But no. I love LA. I'm at the gym— I saw this dude in faded blue jeans, a jersey, some socks, and some Nike slides. I'm like yeah, I'm home. I'm home. Then I go to get a second look at him and he's got rhinestone facial piercings, I'm like. “Yup.” Fuck. I love LA. And they were oddly placed, at that. He had like, his eye wrinkles and second-dimples pierced Like—who has two sets of dimples, anyway?! LA people. Bet. — ALRIGHT DEADMAU5—TAKE IT AWAY. What? No literally. Take away all the deadmau5. What, you can't do that! But I can. — I love deadmau5. Beepbeepboop. Probably more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Way more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Beepboop. — Yo. Yo. Whatever happened to Pasquale? ? What happened to Pasquale? ? What even originally happened to Pasquale? Let's find out. —NO—NOT THE TIME MACHINE AGAIN. Relax. I WILL NOT RELAX. Relaaaaaax… I WILL NOT RELA— —AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Ducks. What the— I told you. DONT DUCK WITH TIME — The thing I knew about Sonny was, I was never going to run into him in public; he was too famous, and too recognizable—and so I didn't have to worry—though, he was always in my mind somewhere, if not in the corner of my eye or somewhere over my shoulder—something like a dry cough that never went away. Might as well have been. — have you ever heard of a blood oath?! No—because they're secret. Turns out that building with my emblem on top is the Los Angeles public library. What a coincidence! No it isn't. I was being facetious. Wow. That should be a spelling bee word. I'm sure it has been. — I got my back up against the wall Why'd I fall for you? We got al the same problems Lack of endorphins, The wrong—a lot of things Maybe nothings wrong with God, after all Fuck, gotta love androgyny. . . . This just got weird. Like it wasn't weird before? No, it's really weird now. WHt is this!! Oh my god! WHAT IS THIS. I don't know. HOW'D THEY DO THIS? Who is “they”? WHOOOIII DID THIS?! Ruffle your feathers a bit? EXT. SOMETHING POETIC. NIGHT for fuck's sake. ffs. Fuck.

god california live google hollywood los angeles lost las vegas dogs hell mexico project writing heart satan night african americans myths cold divine tesla run lack dragons meat gotta picking lol relax fuck woke riding hide bet djs bite addicted ducks whole foods psyche rooms ill mecca equinox staring cough caucasians godlike ew aw shhh fast forward dammit pasquale us bank dillon francis beamer ext unh dtla robinsons porter robinson inhabitants eugh sunn ruffle take it away nevadans dkny lazers wht sonny moore allison wonderland this isn't happening

Rewind: G Ü M - Enter a through The Exit Part V

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 9, 2022 27:02

Enter The Multiverse Enter Through The Exit V Assisted suicide should be mandatory—like, isn't the world over populated anyway? Aren't we running out of resources, or something? I forget: what are we at war for? Fuck this place. After a certain amount of shitty things, you should just be able to go into a hospital and say “Hey, fuck this. Just kill me.” And with no questions asked, they should be able to administer a lethal dose of something good enough l—maybe not to get you all the way home, but at least get your started on your way. Death is a long journey. It's a long walk; and you know what? You don't have any feet. No. In fact, you have to start all over from literally nothing. By the time you ever remember what feet are, or that you had them—by the time you remember all that you did before you pass, and get to the ‘remorse' part—thinking about all the things you missed and didn't do—all the wishes you made before that didn't have time to come true—you do get home. And guess what. You're not done. You finally get to God, and God says ‘go back' And depending on how far you even got, that might just mean you have to go all the way back to the start. Oh—like, the beginning. Not “birth” no. Think more “The Big Bang” And you think that's crazy; that's just a reference point, really. When I say “start all over”, I really mean start at One; don't let anybody tell you the first thing that ever happened was The Big Bang—in reality, all that was was the last thing that ever happened, somewhere else. Life is long, but humans are stupid. We've lost our sense of magic and all our logic at once. Now the whole world is a grey area; a blurred line— Survival has become for nothing more than to just ‘get through the day' If earnest hemmingway was able to sense that he was being watched and followed, long before the organizations that had taken interest in him would ever admit to observing him, or release any information about it at all— do you know what that means? Certain things will take place secretly or behind the scenes for years before there's anyone to say or do something about the truth coming out; I myself like the secretive nature of certain things—some things simply don't need to be said, and if said wouldn't be believed either way. Maybe this is the most important lesson I've learned in my journey with Skrillex. What goes up, must come down—I never really asked for an exploration of the social classes via psychological excavation of my own innerworkings; my shift of consciousness has been manufactured and forced, only to come to find “I Am” as the external force for anything that happens. My theory up to now is that, at a certain point, I must have had both the potential and intelligence it would take be be the revolutionary force which needs to take place in order for our country and species as a whole to survive—perhaps my trump-era outburst of panic and despair set in motion all of the events and happenings leading up to The Skrillex Incident; I no longer have any evidence which would compel me to believe in either coincidences, or paranoia. Some of my most ‘prolific' writing has from from being faced with the obstacle of realization that, at least so far—life just isn't fair. Although, now knowing what I know about Fame, nothing comes without a cost—whether monetary or otherwise paid. I can pass no judgements, as any intelligence I might have once possessed has seemed to have diminished—and any porential I may still have has been for the most part squandered; I am aware of my God-given gifts, talents, and abilities—but will always have to compare myself to those who were given the recourses and advantage of privilege—or those strong enough to overcome the adversities to become the product I see on the thousands of screens in all the places one goes in this country— because of my outstretched belly and natural features, I lack the sex appeal it would take to interest the masses by simply “being”; as a black woman, my existence is an expense, as the hair, nails, clothes, and shoes I must use as a tool to attract positive attention and respect from my outward appearance burns holes in the finances I struggle to keep stable—the truth is, my basis for material possession and financial gain comes from a flawed foundation—however. As I've been given the time to reflect on my upbringing, my background supports the failure I have not yet become, but am faced with becoming. When I awoke from my unconscious journey through the infinite at Audiotistic, it was from a place to horrible I could not bear for it to be—somewhere on skid row, shopping carts full of trash and miscreants—or, at least, other miscreants, wandering about. A dark place so cold, so dirty, so horrible that I willed myself out of the death-sleep I had somehow wandered into l, halfway between the malnutrition of a days-long fast and an overdose of something—and although I had at that point built a tolerance to LSD, something that night took me away—which was perfect, as ‘away' was all I wanted to be. I've been technically homeless since I left Alaska—I suspect that either my ex husband was paid to psychologically torment me, as once I had made it clear that I would be leaving to get my own apartment across town, there was no peace, no rest—and certainly no joy. However, since one of our final interactions just so happened to be the carving of the Eye of Ra onto the side of my face with my house key—that perhaps he wasn't paid by white supremacists, as earlier suspected, but that ancient prophecies themselves were becoming, through this process. What is this process? I still can't say. Once I began to voice my so-to-be political ambitions, things became strange—and while I will admit to a breakdown of sorts—what I came to learn about the mental health and justice systems we use in this country now shows me a clearer picture of the misogyny, racism, terrorism and we use as a power. By the time I made it to Gabby Petitio, I had developed such distrust for the American media that I could not believe any of what I was being showed to be anything more than theater—I felt like I was being talked to, or at least beckoned to realize everything that I was seeing in this picture, which appeared falsified at best. Because some of the best brainwashing I've ever witnessed took place in none other than Utah itself—but the curious case of Gabby Petito took the cake: all I saw were paid actors, improvising lines—and in the background, an unspoken message from The Eye of the Media itself: look what we can do. As a I read the comments, I realized that a mass majority of people could be swayed to be on one side of something, or another. People will argue endlessly about anything other than what really matters. Outwardly, if Gabby Petito was a real person, and not just someone I've painted in my mind as just another ploy, all I can offer is condolences to her parents—but I don't sense any existence of truth in what I could see. What I could see is, why the Caucasian woman is so highly cherished and regarded as ideal—that Gabby Petito could literally be anyone, anywhere and probably was—the “police footage” of her and her boyfriend, the man suspected of killing her, appeared to be on amphetamines or opioids. at least at one point—and the very petite, little white girl also appeared to show signs of what I know to be the beginning of a drug habit— how much money would it take to get two tweakers to disappear? The truth is, I don't care enough—by the time I was processing all this, I had decided not to say, do, or write anything about it, almost as a covenant—we'll just keep this a secret. But, as I again face homelessness, and homelessness, this time, I mean—actually, sleeping in my car, using the gym as a hygiene station and figuring out why it is I've been kept alive the numerous times I've tried to rid the world of the burden of my presence—I don't care about anything. At this time, it's hard to care about much else than hitting the gym, sleeping in a bed at night while I have the luxury, or spending time with my son—who is too young to understand his father's bad habits, limitations, and bad mental health. My ex husband knew that I was close to moving into my own two-bedroom apartment, in a nice complex on the other side of town, nearer to the job I hated, but nonetheless had kept, in addition to another just to be able to get away from him; he knew it would be nicer, cleaner, and overall better than the slummy, grimey place we'd been crammed into for the better part of a year—I planned to leave amicably—however, his pride, I believe, got in the way of my exit plan—it would probably be hard to watch someone improve themselves so drastically in the town you grew up in; it would allow the understanding of the small-minded people in the small-town setting to evaluate that it was in fact your shortcomings which caused the separation at all; Just as it has caused a considerable tension between myself and my “brother”, who is actually my step-brother, (and not even that, as my mother has chosen to stay married to my actual father) to be unable to consume the only thing he truly desires, as we share a “living space”, as of now. But this isn't home— while it is a blessing, a warm place to sleep for the time being, a place to keep my things, and spend time with my son— it isn't “home”. My first few weeks here were plagued with the lesson of living with a man who considers himself “single”—the traffic of women in and out of the house at random times, and for only one reason was a showing of cards in his true weakness. After I paid my rent, cash of course, I began coming “home” to less-than-savory visitors—now I have become dignified in the belief that men—but especially black men—possess such insecurities that they must deflect this emotional void of empathy, without understanding the karmic effects, by collecting these women. Perhaps impacted by too many negative events and people, I've come to view most rap music as residual ignorance—though compelling to watch, as the overall lesson I take is that women become objects the moment they subject themselves to competing for the attention and/or adoration of men who boast material wealth; however, as I've learned from Mr. Sonny Moore, material wealth will eventually attract the most “ideal” or desirable outcome? Could the Skrillex that worked at Terrible's have ever scored any attention from a woman like Kayla Lauren—? And once again. because I've become so jaded in this being, this woman is merely figure I believe to not exist at all, but rather put in place to continue to degrade my own self worth— not that I would have ever even thought to hold myself to such a standard that I may ever attract attention from anyone important myself, but I am however amused at myself for trying so hard in the beginning, perhaps especially because I do love Johnny Depp. But, more on that later. The state of music so adequately displays the wavelength at which young minds operate: sex, drugs, and rock and roll—only now it is easier to see the divide of money as a variable. A man does not have to be attractive to have all there is in the world, but wealthy. The world is full of ugly men with lots of money, trophy wives and a slew of others—prostitutes, or, on the higher end, escorts—and let's not forget the very special evil species of women, the home wreckers; women who cost nothing and everything. So where are we now? Another suicidal tangent—everything that's wrong with the world is what's wrong with me. So what's wrong with you? I like white men; I'm a sapiosexual—this limits my potential for a desirable relationship by almost any probability. Setting the bar at Skrillex, or Sonny, rather, everything pales in comparison—and, if I take all I have learned about the world in this time, not that all men are the same completely, but at least in one way certainly—the woman, or, mostly, women you choose represents your power as a man—insecurities are almost always reflected in the actions and choices people make, Whether or not Kayla Lauren and Sonny Moore are even still an item is beyond me—what I do know, is that the moment I became aware of it at all, I began to withdraw my bid for existence. There's nothing particularly special about Kayla Lauren at all—in fact, she's a cookie-cutter carbon-copy example of the most basic individual possible; a blank slate—perhaps this is why people in this condition typically choose to paint themselves with artwork—as tattoos, I have learned, are a sort of talisman — Again, more on that later. It was heartache to begin with, but the final blow was dealt in the automatic intervention which prompted the scrolling through Instagram as I discovered the turmoil I had been facing was all-for-nothing; Meet Kayla Lauren, a retired porn star—or, at least, by the looks of it. Many times along my path, and especially in California, I learned that the term “Fitness Model” was used by porn actresses, low end models, cam girls (before everybody was one) or anyone at all whose true careeer in some kind of sex work had to be concealed in some sort of way “I'm a fitness model” Oh yes, that explains the body modifications in addition to a usual athletic body type; the fake tits, fake lips, and overall fakeness one's presentation would illicit such a job title to be true “a fitness model” For Skrillex, who is not a person, but a project and a brand, this makes sense; however, for Sonny Moore, I would imagine, or rather can consciously gather that after all one would learn from the luck that granted him the freedom of fame, a genius of sorts would also be dapiosexual in nature—-that therefore Kayla Lauren, though dull to simply look at, were it not for the professional photography, photoshop, plastic surgery, and of course display of wealth that it actually takes to keep up such a lifestyle—must be some kind of special person in more than a way that she represents the beacon of everyone's ideal fucktoy. I find almost nothing interesting anymore, let alone entertaining—but the sense of respect, though without as much admiration that I have for Sonny himself at least allows me some room for reflection; although my affinity for being “fit” was truly born in the chaos and destruction of homelessness and poverty, the “push” to take my workout and fitness to extremes was met with the ghost of Kayla Lauren—not someone I believed to be actually better than me, but luckier. Because, had j been able, I would have taken the same path to perceivable “success” as she seemingly had; like any woman, I would have used my sexual attraction to ease my way through college, into the workforce, and out into the free world; Gazing into the evil-looking blue glare of Kayla Lauren's truly hazel eyes gave me insight on the physical pain and damage caused by my own upbringing— it answered questions that go without asking, such as; Would Kayla Lauren even notice the Skrillex that worked at Terribles? Now, as I take a moment to almost laugh at such a ridiculous notion, while Sonny Moore is almost definitely the most attractive person in the world to me , in a physical sense, this unasked and adamantly answered question brings us to two points— Without having acquired such wealth, the dominant traits of Sonny's true attractiveness—intelligence cast aside— would be hidden by the unhealthy stress of poverty, and more than likely some sort of addiction, perhaps even homelessness or another sort of dependence which are all direct results of poverty, at least in the American sense; his features and aura would be drown in the same burdens as mine do; And, The instagrammable lifestyle influencing “fitness model” may not even have to pump her own gas, but theoretically, perhaps, goes to terribles for an iced tea she can take a picture with—- does she find herself attracted to the 5'3, too-tired-to-talk but still eerily polite cashier, who, for the sake of this hypothetical, is identical to Skrillex—(who, again, isn't a ‘person') So,‘let's scratch each other's backs; [as we've learned] being anywhere near, connected to, working with, being mentioned by or attracting the attention of Skrillex boosts ones social status, or status at all, considerably— In my experience, even listening to or playing the music which has resulted from this project, as a byproduct of the actual person, will change the vibration of the immediate space, or, as the music itself emits certain frequencies layered and sequenced in such a way that it may shift the listener's consciousness. But, on the subject of the person himself, Who has of course by now learned to maneuver and function as both the human person Sonny Moore and also exist as Skrillex, a worldwide phenomenon—all evidence supports that anyone who is able to surround themselves in or even around the inner circle, aka OWSLA will, as a result of Sonny's fame, or the legacy of Skrillex itself will inevitably become more popular; people, including myself, have a tendency to want to know about the world this man lives in or the life he leads in whatever way possible; coughs, Marilyn hue, softest hard, and now even Kayla Lauren can all be assumed to possess a superiority of some sort—as I've said before aloud, but perhaps not In written form as of yet, the company you keep is indicative of your own true nature. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” -MA NIGGA. What. DID YOU WRITE A BOOK— In your DEATH SLEEP? X . x maybe I did? Oh my god . What are you doing? I don't know? I guess I'm like retarded? What. Like a really special kind of like—? I don't know. I don't know. What's wrong with me. That's a chapter heading. What's Wrong With Me . / ? Everything. Oh fuck. This doesn't taste like reeces! This doesn't taste like anything. What is this? It's sugar free. What's the point of sugar free candy! What's the point of music-free music? Hey, watch it. Hey, watch yourself — I TOLD YOU! IM FROM HERE! WHAT THE FUCK CHAK CHEL. Ah, you see!! Fuck you, lady— Fahk you. Now, Oh, my God. —where's Dillon Francis?! WHAT THE FUCK—how should I know?! You should know! Well, I don't. What the fuck. — I don't get it. — I'm just a kid in the crowd And you're just a guy on the stage Don't like to play lost and found Got to start acting my age I like the music up loud Writing my book, turn the page One day, I'm making my sound But tonight, I'm just a kid in the crowd — People think I'm Cuban Cause I'm black and I speak Spanish; But I'm an American who kinda had to vanish I end up in Mexico I thought I'd learn the language But back home I never go—Alaska is for penguins — The Dillon Francis from the Sunni Blu timeline crosses dimensions into The Legend of SupaCree DILLON FRANCIS ...Sunni—?! SUPACREE Uh… C'ESMET (to CC) Don't say anything. CHAK CHEL (to Either) Just act natural. [They both stand in ultimate awkwardness.] CHAK CHEL Not that natural. —- Elbows off the table! Ugh. My bad. Take smaller bites! Okay, alright! Cross your legs! I hate this. What do you think this is?! Uh—fucking breakfast— Wrong as always— Of course I am— —yes you are—because it's BRUNCH. — JESUS AND ALL THE CHRIST! All of them?! The Jesus Convention Oh Lord. (Literally) Well, here it goes. — No, no, no—Wait—go back to Dillon Francis— Which Dillon Francis. This one. So I guess, when you have a nice body, it changes the way your face looks to a man? Like/-it just makes it…better Van Life— Spotify Mitchell Heritage @heritage_travels Hmm. Blue eyes Blue Eyes Tell Lies You really think he does music? I mean, hey. Doesn't really matter. Don't do this. I didn't— She's...easily distracted. [supacree explores her surroundings] Huh. Oh shit, it's syndicated? C'esme't, after giving half her heart to Petrutheio, is then ‘betrayed', when he is caught giving some of it away—afraid of the other half breaking completely, she places it into a chest, locked away for safe keeping; Gían, after becoming aware of this, then steals the other half, in a desperate attempt to dissuade her from her foretold fate Go easy, shit! I'm now a size 4–and that's with the excess skin around my midriff that plagues me. You're not cursed! It's a curse! That's...fucking disgusting. “It's not that bad.” I hate this. This is a size 4?! It's size 4. Well, okay. Then she's gotta be a double zero! Why does that matter? It doesn't. It obviously does. Of course it does!

LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE - The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 2, 2022 26:36

LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial constrict of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and meniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABOUF is straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses. Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN”T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways;I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't hsi first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belied that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! (DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge sllwgence to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons wirh your lady I hate anime and now I hate you to, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesnt it? Hermph. Youre a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so much student loan debt, I would never get a tax return because the stupid government would just take it away. …They're so stupid. It's s supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. So then (hiccups) it doesn't matter if the stupid government computer takes your tax return away, cause you're—rich. Yeah! Rich people don't pay taxes dummy! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly insetttled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) DIPLO, in a villainous rage nearly murders DILLON FRANCIS, stealing his portal gun and a vast supply of his magic to track down SUPACREE and all of her living incarnations. Is this along the same timeline as Shia La— Fuck this dude's last name for real. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. What would they even tell the kids? “Some of you will grow up to amount to nothing and, and out of those some of you, at least one of you might just have the guts to throw yourself in front of a speeding vehicle which represents the very institution which disregarded your existence entirely in the first place.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. Like heroin through a junkie's veins, the song poured through my Hesh 3's like the golden waters of a sacred fountain of wisdom; it made me reflect on the everythingness of all at once, and I was at bliss, even if only for a moment, briefly recalling how I had almost allowed it to be a bad day—but there were no more bad days, I had decided. Everything was in synchronicity, and exactly as it had to be; everything was going along just the way it was supposed to, and I had nothing to worry about. All was in time with the motion of the great flow of life—then, just suddenly—thinking of such synchronicities, as I pulled out my phone to write in the moment— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' I cocked my head in complete awe to the side ‘Hard flex, Dillon Francis.' It was still hard to compute that such a man had become my literal muse—and though I knew not the exact meaning of the word—I knew what it meant. It was fascinating to me, and astonishing that something so simple could in my state of once fragile and benign vulnerability, be used as a tool to help complete this hypnotism, whatever it was meant for. I wasn't exactly making music, or anything good really—and I felt like I was bleeding money and certainly not making my worth in dollars for all the effort and energy I was spending just getting to work at all, let alone to work out—but there was still this, though I could finally falter to being irreversibly in love with Sonny Moore, or at least who he might have once been ( or the idea of such, anyway—) I did very much think of Dillon quite fondly and quite repetitively through each and passsing day, and oftentimes in my dreamworld, quite uncontrollably and involuntarily, in whatever way I was, it was forever. It didn't seem to matter, and though I purged myself from actually becoming as obsessive as I had once been with Sonny, I simply left it alone; ‘It doesn't matter!' Chal's voice sometimes overcoming my own, in the way that I did now wholeheartedly believe that pretty much nothing mattered, especially my emotions or feelings, which I wished would disappear like the title of the album I had actually written and completed but never had the chance to release, and had just the night before eaten in record time 4 entire vegan cupcakes to myself, —even when I had at least thought to share with my coworkers—a feast which usually took between 24 hours and 3 to four days, if I was moderating correctly. But I hadn't been—I was over stressed from riding busses full of people who didn't care that as the natural empath I had always been, I became gross and dysfunctional as anyone else who rode the bus just off the Las Vegas strip between the hours of 8 PM and 8 AM. Gross. I successfully pretended not to know who deadmau5 wash and upon being asked what I was listening to on the bus, I simply replied ‘progressive house'—and just later that night, as my coworkers, most of whom were about 10 years younger than I was, clammoired about fame and famous Individuals; dead-mau-five came up randomly in conversation; to which I coyfully resigned from correcting the falsity that it once had “actually” been the correct way to prounounce the artist's name, and that he had “actually” changed it—and still, later on, when for the first time over the loudspeakers, a song by deadmau5 (besides the new kx5 track) came on, nobody but me could seem to recognize that it was him playing—and though I had heard the song by now at least hundreds of times, I couldn't name it…which embarrassed me, and I failed to even look upon the screen to fact-check or correct myself—it was deadmau5, it was good, and at least it wasn't Skrillex… —who had also, though just behind deadmau5, also “coincidentally” come up in the conversation—this time less sarcastically forging a “who the fuck is that?”—of course, only to be met with what had to be a good minute and a half of my gullible coworkers explaining to me who Skrillex was, as I shrugged and nodded unassuminglu as if I didn't want to shoot myself in the foot just to dance to the tune of my own funural music. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi Are you sleeping? Ooh. I'm sorry. Back to the Diverging lateral pull down, st a weight that looked too heavy, but was actually almost too light. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! Flashback: SUPACREE is swimming when caught in a rogue wave, quickly transforming into a whale, before washing up on shore and transforming back into her human self, right before the eyes of the navy seals team. What the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] Damn, what's gonna happen now?! I don't know. Ask Dillon Francis. What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I dunno. Apparently a lot. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [CC in a high intensity workout-induced trance merges with the character DUFF as she locks her legs across the rotary torso machine. ] DUFF is paralyzed from the waist down after crash landing feet-first from her pod; She has landed in present day earth, first spotted by millions as a UFO; upon rescuing her from the fiery crash, recovering the remains of her futuristic vehicle raises questions from the whole world about her true origins and mission's purpose—however, stricken wirh Amnesia, she only recalls that her name is DUFF, and has very few memories preceding her discovery—it is clear that she is a human, and a high-ranking military trained space explorer—but remembers nothing of her own origins. It is suspected that she may indeed be a time traveler from the distant future. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [DUFF is caught in a lucid dream; the original SUPACREE is in a coma after her failed suicide attempt—their worlds collide.] Beyoncé's voice looked to me as if butterflies had long streams of silk woven wings, fluttering eloquently in hues of fluorescent pink and painted shades of rose-tinted streaking blues, auroras of bubblegum entertaining with breezy mellow waves of yellow and flooding bursts of bright purple—a pure joy in my ear sight, which meant nothing to the world, but everything to me. Creating literal auroras I had only ever before seen in the frigid arctic night skies of Alaska, sometimes I simply had to close my eyes and breathe in deeply the fluid and sometimes glowing and velvety cascades—more so pronounced than the ones I had observed in finally linking kaskade's unique electronic sound to his name—probably because rather than having come from a synthesizer, it was Beyoncé's naturally unnatural voice—and by unnatural, I only meant that it was such a singularity that divinity itself had to have put her hands into allowing such a phenomenon to exist. I had indeed fallen In love with the talent and aura of this too-perfect southern belle—but one doesn't simply aspire to be Beyoncè at the ripe old age of 30; a lifetime of dedication to artistry could only result in such an immaculate perfection in performance—perfection I humbly honored, but tried my best not to crave. [CC, on the brink of being BLŪ but not having yet arrived in the true belief of her own accomplishments or potential. emotionally stuffs her face unforgivingly with Oreo cookies; a silent, friendly ghost, the ghost of the late great COOKIE MONSTA seats himself softly beside her on the bed. Another guardian Angel.] What up, Cookie Monster. I Am Cookie Monster— ugh— [Realizing she is once again confronted with a ghost DJ, after having been visited by Avicii and I_O now years earlier, but still an ever-present memory.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [He shrugs as she stuffs another cookie in her mouth, literally overflowing with cookie and reeling in the discomfort of double-stuffiness. Ughhhhh—I cant feel my face. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. But it seemed like I would never make dubstep—working two jobs, riding the bus—and despite my sweet tooth, my shrinking waistline and quest for physical perfection in the peak of my absolute loneliness, distrust for the world, and disdain for the injustice of society. All it seemed like I did really have that was mine, was deadmau5 blasting through my ears at any given moment as my dirty little secret—Oreos, my synestetic facination with Beyoncé, and, of course, one of the best athletic clubs in the world at my disposl, given that I had the time or energy to use it. Altogether self-serving, señf-soothing, and best of all self loathing—navigating life had become more outwittinglu experiencing infinite death thsn not—an endless ego death in the confines of my own limitations and judgements. I had put myself in a shelf entirely—and now, I didn't know what I was writing for, but I was still writing. Even without making music, music seemed to make itself out of the words that could connect with my broken and tired spirit in whatever synchronization it took to type out a song, or a novel, or a suicide letter, or a screenplay—whatever it was. I didn't know. And… ‘It doesn't matter. COOKIE MONSTA fades away into the reminiscent whisper of a ghost, as CC falls asleep, hugging a pillow and still clutching an Oreo in one hand and her crystals in the other. The room spins as she fades into the dreamworld, lost in her self and the world within. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. Copyright 2022 The Festival Project Small Rights Reserved

god jesus christ american babies hollywood disney mother las vegas men work real mexico dj marvel rich stars mind army jewish attack fbi student park alaska touch beyonce ufos oprah winfrey matrix golden legends scary calm demons cia blame honestly fuck tom cruise riding wtf i am knock guatemala irs call of duty bitch gross multiverse individuals hulk grass marry goddess copyright nah shut up gta neck darling secret service oreo io cc feds us government secret life nevermind amnesia hunted woody harrelson cajun rugs avicii mark ruffalo shia labeouf duff cupcakes google search bpm skrillex haunts mmm mmorpgs morpheus nautilus cookie monster abort yah imaginary friends jeeps stop it chal benny benassi marry me dillon francis synesthesia ohh heh silent partner sunn diverging omniverse bangarang agh i guess periwinkle shut the fuck up i am god hesh quasimoto shia labouf lvac cookie monsta drake work mazunte sonny moore

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