Podcasts about Trapeze

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

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

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

Show notes: https://deeppurplepodcast.com/2025/11/17/episode-344-trapeze-1976/Disclaimer: The video used on YouTube is a byproduct of producing our audio podcast. We post it merely as a convenience to those who prefer the YouTube format. Please subscribe using one of the links below if you'd prefer a superior audio experience.Subscribe to the podcast at Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Overcast, Pocket Casts, Anchor.fm, Breaker, PodBean, RadioPublic, Amazon Music, Pocket Casts, or search in your favorite podcatcher! Leave us a 5-Star Review on Apple PodcastsBuy Merch at Our Etsy Store!Donate on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/deeppurplepodcastWebsite: http://deeppurplepodcast.com/Contact: info@deeppurplepodcast.comTwitter: https://twitter.com/deeppurplepodInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/deeppurplepodcastFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/The-Deep-Purple-Podcast-333239820881996YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxcThTTLtAC_k7m9sTV5HIwThreads: https://www.threads.net/@deeppurplepodcastBluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/deeppurplepod.bsky.social

Ever wondered why some killer 70s rock albums slipped through history's cracks? This week, Dig Me Out listeners unearth Pluto's self-titled 1971 LP—an overlooked slab of psychedelic hard rock, boogie vibes, and vintage cosmic groove. Join us as we dig up the story of the London band with festival creds, a jaw-dropping album cover, and a sound that's part Blue Öyster Cult, part proto-metal pioneers, but all obscurity.Pluto wasn't a household name, but they were closer to the big leagues than you'd think: opening for Thin Lizzy and T. Rex, dropping a record with colored vinyl (ultra-rare for the era!), and chasing UK stardom with ace basslines and fuzzed-out guitars. In this episode, we debate the lost art of 70s rock vocals, the magic of live-in-the-room dynamics, and why some racks collect dust while others become classics. If you're into Deep Purple, Blue Öyster Cult, early Rush, or chasing forgotten bands through dusty record bins, this is your episode.Episode Highlights0:00 – Theme & Intro – Welcome to the 70s Rock spotlight; how Pluto edged out Trapeze, Julian's Treatment, and Dr. Z in the October poll7:30 – Band Origins & Album History – London roots, the Foundations connection, gigging with scene legends, and a wild album art backstory15:20 – The Sound of the Era – Acid rock vs. proto-metal: where Pluto lands, and why categories were still blurry in ‘7122:45 – “She's Innocent” – Acoustic/electric interplay and why this track defines Pluto's subtle power27:10 – B-Side Deep Dive – From “Beauty Queen” to “Mr. Westwood”: the grooves, the jams, and the dream of finding this record for $833:50 – “Ragabone Joe” – The oddball campfire sing-along that splits the hosts—endearing or skippable?39:00 – Better Album, EP, or Single? – The ultimate verdict: trimming, sequencing, and fantasy resurrections with a killer vocalistReady to keep the needle moving? Subscribe, tell your friends, and dig even deeper with us at digmeoutpodcast.com and dmounion.com. Suggest the next lost classic for our polls, join our Discord, and fuel our record hunts across decades. Let's keep unearthing rock's forgotten gems—together! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.digmeoutpodcast.com/subscribe

Jules Leotard first somersaulted off a trapeze at Cirque Napoléon in Paris on 12th November, 1859. His act inspired gymnasts and circus performers the world over - although Leotard is now best remembered as the inventor of the skin-tight outfits he wore on stage. Leotard had abandoned his studies as a lawyer to perfect his circus skills, spurred on by his acrobatic father. He developed his act into a twelve-minute trapeze routine with only a heap of mattresses to break his fall.  In this episode, Arion, Olly and Rebecca perve over old photos of Leotard's physique; reveal how Alvin and the Chipmunks AND Bruce Springsteen have a connection with this day in history; and consider how the leotard evolved from a ‘strong man' outfit to a girl's ballet costume…  Further Reading: • ‘The First Public performance by Jules Leotard' (Squaducation, 2020): https://www.squaducation.com/blog/first-public-performance-jules-leotard • ‘THE DRESS AND THE LEGEND: HISTORY AND FUNCTIONS OF A LEOTARD' (The Vistek, 2020): https://thevistek.com/the-dress-and-the-legend-history-and-functions-of-a-leotard/ • ‘Eddie Cantor - The Man On The Flying Trapeze' (Columbia Years 1922-1940): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwvqMptS7UA This episode first aired in 2021 Love the show? Support us!  Join 

ALBUM FOCUS www.putumayo.com Putumayo Discovery presents French Groove French Groove captures the stylist spirit of a new wave of Francophone musicians who bend upbeat global rhythms and retro cool with inimitable French touch.From this new compilation I aired:The Loire Valley Calypsos (France) "Samos"Alamic (France) "Bossa"Mathieu Gattuso (France) "A La Vie" ***************************Professsor Louie & The Crowmatix "Johnny" - Crowin' Around www.professorlouie.comLaurie Morvan "I Want Answers" - Gravity www.lauriemorvan.comAmerican Merit "Higher Ground" www.americanmeritband.comThe Wildwoods "Meadowlark" - Dear Meadowlark www.thewildwoodsband.comTall Tall Trees "Men & Mountains" - Moment www.talltalltrees.comEver More Nest "Out Here Now" Out Here Now www.evermorenest.comRobert Thomas & The Sessionmen "Lake Louise" - The Way We Roll www.robertthomasandthesessionmen.comPetunia & The Vipers "Long Gone" - Callin' Me Back www.petuniaandthevipers.com********************************Carla Gover "Raise A Little Cane" - Kentucky Queen www.carlagover.comKate McDonnell "Hard Heart" - Trapeze www.katemcdonnell.com Jess Klein "Over The Line" - When We Rise www.jessklein.com Fred Gillen Jr. "The Bluebird Flew Away" - Birds www.fredgillenjr.com Mean Mary "Tarzan" - Woman Creature (Portrait Of A Woman, Part 2) www.meamary.comBen Bedford "Wolves" - Valley Of Stars www.benbedford.comJoy Zimmerman "We Are A Bell" - Where The Light Lives www.joyzimmermanmusic.com Zoe FitzGerald Carter "Starlight Blue" - Before The Machine www.zoefitgeraldccarter.comNoah Zacharin "Something Like A River" - Points Of Light www.nonahsong.com Closing music: TJ Rehmi "You Are We Am I (Red Mix)" - The Warm ChillRunning time: 4 hours 11 minutes I hold deed to this audio's usage, which is free to share with specific attribution, non-commercial and non-derivation rules.https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/

Originally Aired September 4, 2025: Dr Andrea Johnston answers your pet questions. Grandma fell for a space-scam. Everything you ever wanted to know about pregnancy fraud. Listen & subscribe to the show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or Amazon Music. For more, visit https://www.93x.com/half-assed-morning-show/Follow the Half-Assed Morning Show:Twitter/X: @93XHAMSFacebook: @93XHAMSInstagram: @93XHAMSEmail the show: HAMS93X@gmail.com See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This week, Jay Jay is joined by rock icon Glenn Hughes! Tune in to hear these two do a deep dive into their ongoing musical legacies, & the life experiences that come with it. Glenn shares stories from his illustrious career, giving us a glimpse of what it was like to be part of legendary bands like Deep Purple and Trapeze - the extensive performances, creative breakthroughs, and unforgettable moments. He gets into the evolution of his sound and the challenges that artists face in today's music landscape. Their discussion touches on the impact of streaming, with Glenn expressing his thoughts on how it has transformed the way music is both consumed and created. They discuss Glenn's latest work & listen to two new singles, “Voice in My Head” & "Chosen." The conversation wraps on a hopeful note, as they discuss the importance of live music and the connection it fosters among fans and artists alike. Don't miss this insightful conversation from two rock legends - only on The Jay Jay French Connection: Beyond the Music! Produced & Edited by Matthew Mallinger

When people talk about the great rock vocalists of all time, several familiar and redundant names will always appear, like Ronnie James Dio, Robert Plant, Roger Daltrey, Chris Cornell and others.  One name that appears on those same lists is Rock And Roll Hall of Famer, Glenn Hughes, known for his work in Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Trapeze, Black Country Communion, and as a solo artist. We were lucky enough to speak with him about the new record, upcoming  confirmed projects with Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, and Joe Bonamassa, as well as what it was like to play Cal Jam I in Ontario and his thoughts on loosing his friend Ozzy Osbourne the prior week.

In this episode Glenn Hughes returns to the podcast. Glenn talks about his new album “Chosen”, writing, Black Country Communion, working with Tony Iommi, Black Sabbath and the Back to the Beginning concert, his recent song with SATCHVAI (Joe Satriani / Steve Vai), working with Robbie Wilkliams, his early days in Oklahoma with Trapeze, his album with Robin George (Overcome- 2023), and more! Thanks for listening, and please share! #podcast #glennhughes #allkillernofiller This episode is brought to you by DEB Concerts. Follow DEB on Facebook and Twitter to get updates on upcoming shows including Rocklahoma performances from Sebastian Bach, Lita Ford, Orianthi, Mike Tramp and more! This episode is also brought to you by Sunset Tattoo Tulsa. Sunset Tattoo has over 25 years of experience, and is located at 3146 E. 15th St. in Tulsa, OK. Native owned, and a female tattoo artist in house. The tattoos are "Done Good and Proper" so be sure to like their facebook page for more details. This episode is also brought to you by Rocklahoma Bitches! Rocklahoma Bitches have been supporting Rocklahoma every year since 2011. Cristy and Kendra have become synonymous with the party both in the campgrounds and inside the venue at ROK. They give away (never charge) an abundant amount of their merch, they MC major campground events, bid on charity guitar auctions, and have become a yearly sponsor of the Cancer Sucks benefit concert in Tulsa. Join their FB group and follow the Rockbitch page now! Stream us anytime everywhere podcasts are heard.

In this episode Glenn Hughes returns to the podcast. Glenn talks about his new album “Chosen”, writing, Black Country Communion, working with Tony Iommi, Black Sabbath and the Back to the Beginning concert, his recent song with SATCHVAI (Joe Satriani / Steve Vai), working with Robbie Wilkliams, his early days in Oklahoma with Trapeze, his album with Robin George (Overcome- 2023), and more! Thanks for listening, and please share! #podcast #glennhughes #allkillernofiller This episode is brought to you by DEB Concerts. Follow DEB on Facebook and Twitter to get updates on upcoming shows including Rocklahoma performances from Sebastian Bach, Lita Ford, Orianthi, Mike Tramp and more! This episode is also brought to you by Sunset Tattoo Tulsa. Sunset Tattoo has over 25 years of experience, and is located at 3146 E. 15th St. in Tulsa, OK. Native owned, and a female tattoo artist in house. The tattoos are "Done Good and Proper" so be sure to like their facebook page for more details. This episode is also brought to you by Rocklahoma Bitches! Rocklahoma Bitches have been supporting Rocklahoma every year since 2011. Cristy and Kendra have become synonymous with the party both in the campgrounds and inside the venue at ROK. They give away (never charge) an abundant amount of their merch, they MC major campground events, bid on charity guitar auctions, and have become a yearly sponsor of the Cancer Sucks benefit concert in Tulsa. Join their FB group and follow the Rockbitch page now! Stream us anytime everywhere podcasts are heard.

Start Artist Song Time Album Year 6. Trapeze 1970 0:01:20 Trapeze Another Day 2:33 Trapeze (Vinyl) 1970 5. Hot Wire 1974 0:04:08 Trapeze Back Street Love 5:01 Hot Wire 1974 4. Trapeze 1975 0:09:18 Trapeze Gimmie Good Love 3:07 Trapeze (Reissue 2015) 1975 3. Hold On 1979 0:12:35 Trapeze Take Good Care 3:27 Hold On […]

A trapeze performer hires Marlowe to protect a circus from dangerous gamblers who are owed money by his partners.Original Air Date: July 1, 1947Support the show on a one-time basis at http://support.greatdetectives.net.Mail a donation to: Adam Graham, PO Box 15913, Boise, Idaho 83715Take the listener survey at http://survey.greatdetectives.netGive us a call at 208-991-4783Follow us on Instagram at http://instagram.com/greatdetectivesFollow us on Twitter @radiodetectivesJoin us again on Monday for another detective drama from the Golden Age of Radio.

Harley Flanagan has been kicking out punk music since he was in grade school. Literally. Cro-Mags, Harley's band, has been a big part of the NYC punk scene since the 80s and Harley has been making the rounds lately promoting his documentary called "Harley Flanagan: Wired for Chaos."Probably should have known by the documentary title that this episode would be anything but our typical format. Plenty of other discussion including downtuning guitars, "Medusa" from Trapeze, Ozzy's voice being unrecognizable, NYC punk scene in the 70s and 80s, CBGB, the Beastie Boys, and more.   Check out Harley Flanagan at:   https://harleyflanagan.com/ Check out other episodes at RecordsRevisitedPodcast.com or one all your favorite podcast providers like Apple Podcasts, Castbox, iHeartMedia, and Spotify. Additional content is found at: Facebook.com/recordsrevisitedpodcast or twitter @podcastrecords or IG at instagram.com/recordsrevisitedpodcast/ or join our Patreon at patreon.com/RecordsRevisitedPodcast

Candi is a cuckquean who swings with her husband and she called in to talk all about it. Tune in to hear all the details including their first, spontaneous full swap and exactly what went down, the next couple they hooked up with and how that hook up made her realize she is very into women, their first experience at Trapeze swinger club in Atlanta and what they like t do while there, the type of women they're both into hooking up and the specific guys she's really into, how and when and why they eventually started the cuckquean experiences they had with a woman they hooked up with on a cruise, how her husband and the unicorn cucked her while she was there watching and the time they did it without her and exactly what went down both times, how she now enjoys humiliation and degradation while she is being cucked by a cuckcake plus a whole lot more. **To see HOT pics of CANDI plus my other female guests + gain access to my PRIVATE Discord channel where people get super XX naughty + hear anonymous confessions + get all the episodes early and AD FREE, join my Patreon! It's only $7 a month and you can cancel at any time. You can sign up here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.patreon.com/StrictlyAnonymousPodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ MY BOOK IS NOW OUT FOR PRE-ORDER!!!! Strictly Anonymous Confessions: Secret Sex Lives of Total Strangers. A bunch of short, super sexy, TRUE stories. GET YOUR COPY NOW: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://amzn.to/4i7hBCd⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  To join SDC and get a FREE Trial! click here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.sdc.com/?ref=37712⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or go to SDC.com and use my code 37712  Want to be on the show? Email me at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠strictlyanonymouspodcast@gmail.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or go to ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://www.strictlyanonymouspodcast.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and click on "Be on the Show" Have something quick you want to confess while remaining anonymous? Call the CONFESSIONS hotline at 347-420-3579. You can call 24/7. All voices are changed.  Sponsors:  https://vb.health To get 10% off Load Boost and Drive Boost by VB Health use code: STRICTLY ⁠⁠https://beducate.me/pd2516-anonymous⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Use code: ANONYMOUS to get an 50% off plus a 14 day money-back guarantee Follow me! Instagram ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/strictanonymous/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Twitter ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://twitter.com/strictanonymous?lang=en⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://www.strictlyanonymouspodcast.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Everything else ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/Strictlyanonymouspodcas⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

HuDost "Waking" & "Last Snow" - Trapeze www.hudost.com HuDost "Acting Out The Outrage" - The Monkey In The CrownCaroline Cotter "The Year Of The Wrecking Ball" - Gently As I Go www.carolinecotter.com Emily Mure "As The world Falls Down" - Worth www.emilymure.com Kate MacLeod 'Now Is The Time To Be Alive" - Uranium Maiden www.katemacleod.com Kirsten Maxwell "All I Am" - Crimson www.kirstenmaxwell.com********************Katie Dahl "Red Brown Blue Green" - Seven Stones www.katiedahlmusic.comGrace Morrison "When It Rains" - Maybe Modern www.gracemorrison.com William Matheny "Late Blooming Forever" - That Grand, Old Feeling www.williammatheny.comKevin Daniel "Singer And The Song" - The Life and Adventures Of Kevin Daniel www.thekevindaniel.com Maya de Vitry 'Infinite" - Infinite www.mayadevitry.com Monica Rizzio "Story Of My New Year" - Sunshine Is Free www.monicarizzio.com Henry Taylor "I Don't Have A Name" http://www.henrytaylor.ca/*********************ALBUM FOCUS:Lucy Kaplansky: The Lucy Story www.lucykaplansky.comThis a double-album of mostly unreleased tracks that form a retrospective history of the acclaimed songwriter's musical life. 20 of them have never been released before; the other 5 have never appear on her albums. From the double-album I aired: "God Will" "Forget Me Not" "I Know Why The River Runs" & "Carey" ************************Ainsley Costello "Change Your Mind" www.ainsleycostello.com Love Is Enough "To You" www.loveisenoughband.com Thomas Nicholas Band "Just Leave It" - We're Gonna Be okay www.tinicholas.com Surprise Chef "Friendship Theme" - Friendship https://bigcrownrecords.com/artists/surprise-chef/Takuya Kuroda "Everyday" - Everyday https://www.takuyakuroda.com/

What do you do if you make friends with a gay priest, a best selling author and trapeze circus act? If you're Carolyn Whitney-Brown, you write a book about it.

Send us a textLifestyle Stories | Winter Storms and Wild Nights: Inside Night of Spice Trapeze Atlanta | Episode 179In this episode of The Swing Nation Podcast, the top-rated podcast about non-monogamy and swinging, Dan and Lacy share an unforgettable recap of their recent trip to Atlanta, Georgia, for a Night of Spice event—a weekend that almost didn't happen due to a winter storm.Hear how they battled icy roads on Friday, only to improvise and host a pop-up swingers party in a snowed-out city, which led to the biggest orgy they've ever experienced. On Saturday, the party heats up at Club Trapeze, where Dan opens for DJ Life of Spice. With an hour-long line of eager guests waiting in the cold, the energy inside the club is electric. From Life of Spice's epic set to an unforgettable public orgy in the playroom, the weekend ends with Dan DJing in his underwear as he closes out the night.This episode is packed with laughs, surprises, and the steamy details you love! Don't miss this incredible story of spontaneity, connection, and unforgettable adventures.- The Swing Nation -Main Website Quick Navigation Website: -- (Find all our social media links & more!)- Swinger Society - Our Website to meet, connect & events Swinger Society Discord Our Facebook Group- Swinger Websites -Kasadie 90 day free trialUsername: TheSwingNation SDC 14 day free trial Username: TheSwingNation** Use code 36313 for 14 days free! ** SLSUsername: NorthernGuynSouthernGirl- Merch & More -Order Your Merch Here!- Lacy's Fun Links -VIP OnlyFansPREMIUM OnlyFans-- THANK YOU TO OUR SPONSORS --Wisp : Making sexual healthcare inclusive, cost-effective, and accessible—for everyoneUse Code SWING at checkout for 15% off your oder!Shameless Care: ED Medication and at home STD testingUse Code TSN at checkout for $30 off your order!Promescent® Make Love Longer, It's Time for Great SexUse Code SwingNation for 5% off!Sing it Bikinis:  adjustable one-size styles, thoughtfully crafted to flatter every body type.Support the show- Thank you for the support! -

Seguimos analizando la escena del jazz en Países Bajos esta vez bajo la óptica de la sala Bimhuis y su discográfica. Escuchamos a Ella Zirina, Alistair Payne, Sanem Kalfa, Bernard van Rossum, Nausyqa, Chris Muller, Kit Downes, Paul Termos & Misha Mengelberg, Loek Dikker y el Trio Janssen Glerum Janssen.Temas que suenan en el programa:01 2022 Ella Zirina - Intertwined 04 Waiting for Something That Will Never Happen - David Macchione Eloi Pascual Nogue (4' 44'')02 2024 Alistair Payne - This Thread Walks 05 Perfectly - Tongo Eisen-Martin José Soares Floris Kappeyne Tijs Klaassen Sun-Mi Hong (5' 17'')03 2022 Sanem Kalfa - REFLEX Miraculous Layers 05 Boslukta - Kamucan Yalçin Marta Warelis Fuensanta Sun-Mi Hong (4' 08'')04 2019 Bernard van Rossum Quartet - Trampoline 01 Trampoline - Xavi Torres Marco Zenini Joan Terol (3' 25'')05 2022 Nausyqa - Live Keep an Eye - Third Theme - Miguel Valente Antonio Moreno Antonio Todisco Jelle Willems Richard Nacinelli Pedro Nobre (4' 02'')06 2022 Chris Muller Big Band - Live Amsterdam Blue Note - Brainfreeze (5' 41'')07 2024 Kit Downes Dr. Snap 01 Children with Pitchforks - Ketija Ringa Karahona Ben van Gelder Robin Fincker Percy Pursglove Reinier Baas Petter Eldh Sun-Mi Hong James Maddren Veslemøy Narvesen (5' 21'')08 2002 Paul Termos & Misha Mengelberg - Paul Termos Sessions Volume I 06 Trapeze (5' 49'')09 2024 Loek Dikker Waterland Sextet - Live Bimhuis - Leo van Oostrom Jan Menú Loek Boudesteijn Lucien Matheeuwsen Pierre Courbois (4' 58'')10 2012 Trio Janssen Glerum Janssen - One Bar - Guus Janssen Ernst Glerum Wim Janssen (5' 35'')Y os recomiendo, como siempre, la web jazzaragon para estar al día del jazz en Aragón.

Los Whispers nos fuimos a la aventura ¡en alta mar! Aprovechamos para visitar Trapeze en Florida, y les traemos todos los detalles, y al final del episodio hay un par de anuncios que no se querrán perder, . ¡Acompáñenos!

Discover all of the podcasts in our network, search for specific episodes, get the Optimal Living Daily workbook, and learn more at: OLDPodcast.com. Episode 1548: Chris Guillebeau shares the intriguing story of William Crow, a once-impoverished man who turned his life around through unconventional choices and a commitment to self-improvement. This narrative explores themes of resilience, creativity, and the importance of aligning one's actions with personal values. Read along with the original article(s) here: https://chrisguillebeau.com/william-crow/ Quotes to ponder: "The best way to predict your future is to create it." "Adversity introduces a man to himself." "To live differently, you must think differently and act accordingly." Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Discover all of the podcasts in our network, search for specific episodes, get the Optimal Living Daily workbook, and learn more at: OLDPodcast.com. Episode 1548: Chris Guillebeau shares the intriguing story of William Crow, a once-impoverished man who turned his life around through unconventional choices and a commitment to self-improvement. This narrative explores themes of resilience, creativity, and the importance of aligning one's actions with personal values. Read along with the original article(s) here: https://chrisguillebeau.com/william-crow/ Quotes to ponder: "The best way to predict your future is to create it." "Adversity introduces a man to himself." "To live differently, you must think differently and act accordingly." Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Discover all of the podcasts in our network, search for specific episodes, get the Optimal Living Daily workbook, and learn more at: OLDPodcast.com. Episode 1548: Chris Guillebeau shares the intriguing story of William Crow, a once-impoverished man who turned his life around through unconventional choices and a commitment to self-improvement. This narrative explores themes of resilience, creativity, and the importance of aligning one's actions with personal values. Read along with the original article(s) here: https://chrisguillebeau.com/william-crow/ Quotes to ponder: "The best way to predict your future is to create it." "Adversity introduces a man to himself." "To live differently, you must think differently and act accordingly." Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Discover all of the podcasts in our network, search for specific episodes, get the Optimal Living Daily workbook, and learn more at: OLDPodcast.com. Episode 1548: Chris Guillebeau shares the intriguing story of William Crow, a once-impoverished man who turned his life around through unconventional choices and a commitment to self-improvement. This narrative explores themes of resilience, creativity, and the importance of aligning one's actions with personal values. Read along with the original article(s) here: https://chrisguillebeau.com/william-crow/ Quotes to ponder: "The best way to predict your future is to create it." "Adversity introduces a man to himself." "To live differently, you must think differently and act accordingly." Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Dylan takes on something she's never done before and tries trapezing for the first time. Also, Craig visits a school that may be the oldest in the country dedicated to the education of Black children. Plus, Al catches up with Dennis Quaid for a conversation about his journey to turning 70, including the highs, lows, and everything in between.

Join us as we give you an honest look into Trapeze Ft. Lauderdale, hyped as one of the top swinger clubs in the U.S. - is it really worth the buzz (and the price)? Four visits later, we've seen it all: a sixsome, a wife poach, and even a hotwife twist. From the packed dance floor to the grabby single-dude vibe (and let's not forget the buffet), we're breaking down the good, the bad, and the 'seriously?!' moments—including that time our car got towed. Tune in for the ultimate Trapeze tell-all!   Dive in and enjoy every spoonful of our super candid newbie journey as we go from vanilla…to 69 flavors! Always hilarious, unhinged, bite-size and commercial-free! *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Where else to find Kat & Leo (besides clubs and cruises!): Website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://VanillaSwingers.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ *BRAND NEW* blog page ---> check out fun links & more!  South Florida After Dark: Ultimate Trapeze Club Review​ CONFUSED on Swinger Lingo? Check out Kat's new ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Swinger Dictionary⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠!    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Contact Us! Slide into our DMs... ;-) Email Us:  ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠hello@vanillaswingers.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@VanillaSwingers⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@VanillaSwingers⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

This week we respectfully welcome back to the show Slamfest Podcast host: Mad Brad Rusthoven. He has called us out on a grave mistake of not having played Black Country Communion on any of our recent New Wave Of Classic Rock episodes. Therefore, we give you “Grave Mistakes: BLACK COUNTRY COMMUNION Shoulda Been Huge”… scratch that: Should BE Huge!!! Celebrate this amazing supergroup with us. Apologies for a little hiss and background noise in the episode (our crack staff must have been smoking crack again).This episode is rooted in our Should Have Been category. This is a band that we mentioned before on the show and played an offshoot band from them. They contain some household names in classic blues and rock and have a hell of a pedigree, but unfortunately, their brilliance has yet to be recognized to the degree that it truly deserves. This is the bastard child of Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin for the love of Lemmy! We think they SHOULD BE HUGE… Songs this week include:Black Country Communion - “Beggarman” from Black Country Communion (2010)Black Country Communion - “The Outsider” from 2 (2011)Black Country Communion - “The Great Divide” from Live Over Europe (2012)Black Country Communion - “Midnight Sun” from Afterglow (2012)Black Country Communion - “Sway” from BCCIV (2017)Black Country Communion - “Stay Free” from V (2024)Please subscribe everywhere that you listen to podcasts!Visit us: https://inobscuria.com/https://www.facebook.com/InObscuriahttps://twitter.com/inobscuriahttps://www.instagram.com/inobscuria/Buy cool stuff with our logo on it!: https://www.redbubble.com/people/InObscuria?asc=uCheck out Robert's amazing fire sculptures and metal workings here: http://flamewerx.com/If you'd like to check out Kevin's band THE SWEAR, take a listen on all streaming services or pick up a digital copy of their latest release here: https://theswear.bandcamp.com/If you want to hear Robert and Kevin's band from the late 90s – early 00s BIG JACK PNEUMATIC, check it out here: https://bigjackpnuematic.bandcamp.com/

Kate McDonnell has captivated audiences all over the world with her award-winning songwriting, her unusual upside down and backwards guitar style, and her crystalline voice.  Kate was in the Heartland for a couple of shows in 2024 including Howard Dolginoff's Labyrinth House Concert Series.  She was kind enough to come onto my radio show during a Pledge Drive to help me raise money for community radio.  Kate comes from generations of musicians on both sides: her maternal grandfather (trumpet) and great grandfather (trombone and viola) performed with the National and Baltimore Symphonies. Kate's father sang in operettas in his younger years, and her mother continues to play anything she can hear on the piano in F#, just as her own mother did. All three of Kate's siblings have the musical gift.  Armed with her unusual guitar style and soprano voice, Kate teamed with her twin sister to perform around their Baltimore hometown during their high school and college years. After a four-year sabbatical from performance in the mid-80s, Kate returned to music by partnering with guitarist Freddie Tane, at one time a member of Bill Haley's Comets.  That duo cut two self-released albums during their collaboration and opened shows for touring stars such as Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson and Judy Collins.  In 1989, Kate started writing her own songs and began racking up serious critical recognition like being named a New Folk Finalist at the Kerrville Folk Festival in Texas and a finalist at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival Showcase in New York State.  Kate's latest work, “Trapeze” introduced here on the Tasty Brew was released in September 2024.  Enjoy this conversation and in studio performance with New York's Kate McDonnell. 

When you trust God, He will catch you! Thank you for listening to Encourage-Mint. If you've been refreshed, don't forget to subscribe, Leave a review on iTunes, and share a little Encourage-Mint with someone you love. Encourage-Mint is a podcast from Family Radio. These moments are just a taste of what you can hear every day. Listen at FamilyRadio.org or find more encouragement on the Family Radio app.  Get daily Scripture and encouragement by following Family Radio on your favorite social media platforms:FacebookInstagram Twitter

Original text by Steven Levy, Macworld January 1990. The sad story of dBASE Mac, which was quickly sold off and briefly revived as nuBASE. Followup article. MindWrite and how it relates to the collapse of mail order house Icon Review. Useless product of the year: WristMac, as shown at Macworld Expo San Francisco 1989. Watch Jean-Louis Gassee assemble a Macintosh IIcx live on stage. (Tim Cook take note: once in a while, you should actually touch and use the miserably buggy products you're overseeing.) FlashTalk vs DaynaTalk. As they say, you haven't heard of it for a reason. Macworld ran an excellent series on PostScript and TrueType font design in 1991. John Warnock and Chuck Geschke talk about the early days of Adobe and the Font Wars of the late 1980s/early 1990s. The spreadsheet package Trapeze disappeared after a few years. Lead Trapeze developer Andrew Wulf demonstrating Trapeze on TV in a brilliant white suit. Andrew also worked on DeltaGraph. The AppleFax modem required a ROM update for inter-modem compatibility and was lumbered with many other hardware and software problems that were never addressed. After trying to sell you “Apple Business Graphics” (read: “graphics are not for games and kids, we swear”) and Apple Desktop Publishing, here comes “Apple Desktop Media” (read: “you can only create multimedia with the Mac, please buy our hardware”). According to the video, Apple Desktop Media is mostly about violently plopping things onto the Apple Scanner. Bonus Wilfred Brimley. ImageWriter LQ press release, review, complaints and “frequent mechcanical problems”, followed by Apple grudgingly upgrading larger customers to LaserWriters if they complained enough about faulty ImageWriter LQs. Version 1.0 of “running to the media doesn't help”?

Beloved Australian actor, Noni Hazlehurst looks back on her life on stage and screen.

On this episode: Having it OUR way at the Burger King on Car Hop Vapes and a mystery message on Consciousness, what is it on Here's an Example of an Idea Hang on to the Trapeze to Nowhere on Bump In The Night and Tim does a thing he probably shouldn't do... or text/call 817-754-0570  

Today we are continuing a new series called Family Circus where over the next several weeks we are going to take a look together at various aspects of family life from a biblical perspective in the hopes of learning how we can lead and operate within our families in a way that honors God and establishes His Kingdom in the midst of a culture and society that is often pulling us in a different direction.

We are back from a break and catch up on what the team have been up to, P. Diddy is in a bit of trouble & listeners "Beg MG For Grand Final Tickets". Plus, comedian Dom Knight joins us for a bit of local Sydney news. Join Mick & MG weekday mornings from 6am or grab the podcast everyday on LiSTNR or where ever you get your podcasts. #MickAndMGInTheMorningSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Leisure Hour "The Glow" - The Sunny Side www.facebook.com/leiurehour Shotgun Funeral "For Good" - Nicer https://www.facebook.com/shotgunfuneralchi/ All Hope Remains "Standing By" - Find My Way https://www.facebook.com/allhoperemains/events No Guidance "Back To You" - Late To The Party https://www.facebook.com/NoGuidanceOfficial Lost In Society "Wake Up" - The Distribution Of Comfort www.facebook.com/lostinsociety Phantom Hound "Gold Fever" - From Boom Town To Ghost Town www.phantomhound.com Pig "The Sick" - Sinsation (re-release) - www.pigindustries.com En Esch "Get Lost" (featuring Vas Kallas of Hanzel und Gretyl) www.enesch.de ************************ King Ropes" Radio Jane" - Idaho www.kingropesband.com Rena Guinn & The Gentlemen "Talk To Me' - The Wilburland Sessions www.renaguinn.com Petunia & The Vipers "Billy The Kid" - www.facebook.com/petuniathevipers Professor Louie & Cromatix "Tick Tock" - Strike Up The Band www.professorlouie.com The Reverend Shawn Amos "Soul Brother No. 1" - Soul Brother No. 1 www.shawnamos.com Emily Hicks "Anymore" - Weird Wild Wonderful www.emilyhicksmusic.com ******************** ALBUM FOCUS: Si Kahn & George Mann: Labor Day: A Tribute To Hard-Working People Everywhere www.sikahn.com Michael Johnathon & Odetta "Gone Gonna Rise Again" Billy Bragg "We're The Ones" George Mann "Were You There" Laurie Lewis & Si Kahn 'Long Way To Harlan" ****************************** Erin Ash Sullivan "We Walk The Flats" - Signposts and Marks www.erinashsullivan.com Beth Wood "The Speed Of Lonely" - Love Is Onto You www.bethwoodmusic.com Peter Mulvey "Soft Animal" - Love Is The Only Thing www.petermulvey.com The Pairs "Superhuman" - When Will We Find Our Way? www.thepairsmusic.com Kate McDonnell "Madeleine" - Trapeze www.katemcdonnell.com Mean Mary "Tarzan" - Portrait Of A Woman Part 2 www.meanmary.com Annie & Rod Capps "The Way It Goes" - Love & Rain www.annieandrodcapps.com March To August "Leonora's Dance" - Songs Inspired By Witness www.marchtoaugust.com Closing: Closing music: Geoffrey Armes “Vrikshashana (The Tree)” – Spirit Dwelling http://www.geoffreyarmes.com Running time: 5 hours 7 minutes --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/radiocblue/support

In her quest for novelty and trying new things, Katy takes to the skies. What is the craziest thing you ever tried? ______ Want to hear more? Become part of the Bittersweet Life community by supporting just on Patreon! For as little as $5 per month—less than the price of a coffee in some places—you will have access to multiple bonus episodes every single month.  You'll hear conversations that would never take place on the main show, you'll be part of our new chat community, you'll have access to Patreon-only content in addition to bonus episodes, and you'll be invited to join us for regular live meet-ups.  But most importantly, you'll be doing your part to help keep this show alive—an independent podcast with no corporate support. (You'll also help keep it virtually ad-free!) Check our our Patreon page for all the details, and consider joining us at the $5 level or above. We are eternally grateful! ------------------------------------- ADVERTISE WITH US: Reach expats, future expats, and travelers all over the world. Send us an email to get the conversation started. BECOME A PATRON: Pledge your monthly support of The Bittersweet Life and receive awesome prizes in return for your generosity! Visit our Patreon site to find out more. TIP YOUR PODCASTER: Say thanks with a one-time donation to the podcast hosts you know and love. Click here to send financial support via PayPal. (You can also find a Donate button on the desktop version of our website.) The show needs your support to continue. START PODCASTING: If you are planning to start your own podcast, consider Libsyn for your hosting service! Use this affliliate link to get two months free, or use our promo code SWEET when you sign up. SUBSCRIBE: Subscribe to the podcast to make sure you never miss an episode. Click here to find us on a variety of podcast apps. WRITE A REVIEW: Leave us a rating and a written review on iTunes so more listeners can find us. JOIN THE CONVERSATION: If you have a question or a topic you want us to address, send us an email here. You can also connect to us through Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Tag #thebittersweetlife with your expat story for a chance to be featured! NEW TO THE SHOW? Don't be afraid to start with Episode 1: OUTSET BOOK: Want to read Tiffany's book, Midnight in the Piazza? Learn more here or order on Amazon. TOUR ROME: If you're traveling to Rome, don't miss the chance to tour the city with Tiffany as your guide!  

Rich Embury is back again with another flashback to the '70s, '80s, and '90s rock and metal scene! Rock History, and Classics from Krokus / Alice In Chains / Robert Plant / Motorhead / Anvil / Ratt / Malice / Deep Purple / Metallica / Anthrax / Trapeze / Mercyful Fate! This edition of Rich Embury's […]

Sometimes, you want a podcast with some extra swing... and a side of high-flying, above-pool acrobatic action! This episode, special guest Buddy Savanna Sneeringer helps us explore the ins and outs of trapeze, and the fascinating life of Jules Leotard, the first trapeze artist... and namesake of an article of clothing you're likely familiar with! Plus, a revelatory MouthGarf Report and some delightful I See What You Did There!Sources:The song about our boy, Jules Circus Stories PodcastJules Leotard on Wikipedia Encyclopedia BritannicaSavanna's performances: The best: https://youtu.be/VaWQL599rC8Bb's first trapeze performance: https://youtu.be/qtNYRG0nYdkhttps://youtu.be/Qe1SexD_v6wPlease give us a 5 star rating on Apple Podcasts! Want to ask us a question? Email us at debutbuddies@gmail.comListen to Kelly and Chelsea's awesome horror movie podcast, Never Show the Monster.Get some sci-fi from Spaceboy Books.Get down with Michael J. O'Connor's music!Next time: First Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest

Meet the Stars of the Circus! Elizabeth uses humor to make sense of the chaos that unfamiliar behaviors were bringing to their family. Seeing life as a three ring circus complete with a clown, a trapeze artist and a monkey kept things light while navigating the new territory of a learning disability diagnosis in a state that did not provide much support. www.EBCconsultingLLC.com

Sabrina Cendral is a hospitality advisor and strategist and in this episode, shares her extensive experience with Club Med, where she ended up becoming the Senior Vice President of Marketing and Sales for the company's North American operations.Listeners will learn:The Benefits of All-Inclusive Hospitality: Discover how all-inclusive resorts like Club Med enhance the guest experience and provide significant benefits to team members.Personal and Professional Growth Through Travel: Sabrina discusses how early travel experiences shaped her career and leadership in hospitality, emphasizing the role of diverse cultural interactions in personal development.Career Development in Hospitality: Explore how all-inclusive resorts serve as a dynamic platform for career growth, offering employees opportunities to work in various roles and locations worldwide.Operational Insights: Gain insights into the operational complexities and the magic behind creating memorable guest experiences in all-inclusive settings.Cultural and Social Dynamics: Learn about the unique social and cultural interactions facilitated by Club Med's global staff and diverse guest mix, enhancing the overall travel experience.Also see: Why Childhood Travel Makes Better Leaders (Forbes)Thoughts, questions, suggestions? Send me a text messageWant to get my summary and actionable insights from each episode delivered to your inbox each day? Subscribe here for free.Follow Hospitality Daily and join the conversation on YouTube, LinkedIn, and Instagram.Music by Clay Bassford of Bespoke Sound: Music Identity Design for Hospitality Brands

Melanie and Ed love watching old movies and dishing on them. This week's movie is TRAPEZE (1956), starring Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis and Gina Lollobrigida. Mel and Ed make book recommendations with similar themes. Send podcast comments and suggestions to Melanded@whothehellarewe.com Don't forget to subscribe to the show!

New episode of Dregs of Craigs is here! This episode we discuss the mysterious Trapeze, an honestly great organization but with a questionable choice of name, a baffling hand-written collection, along with the usual tangents you know and love! Find out more at https://dregs-of-craigs.pinecast.co Send us your feedback online: https://pinecast.com/feedback/dregs-of-craigs/2b24cd03-f7e8-469c-bd6c-351279c04125 This podcast is powered by Pinecast.

Suzanne discusses the challenge of overcoming persistent old habits like overeating and how these habits cannot simply be switched off. Through a client's story, she explains that while these habits serve us in some ways, transformation requires understanding that change isn't a simple on/off switch but a process. Suzanne uses the metaphor of a trapeze to describe the journey of breaking habits, emphasizing the importance of persistence, gradual progress, and self-compassion over the all-or-nothing mindset. The episode encourages listeners to reframe their approach to breaking old habits and offers hope for building new, healthier ones over time.   In this episode Suzanne talks about: Identifying and Overcoming Self-Sabotage The Illusion of the 'Off Switch' for Bad Habits A New Perspective on Habit Change The Trapeze Analogy: A Safer Approach to Change Building Resilience Through Repetition and Practice Embracing the Journey of Change Enjoy my podcast? You'll love my emails, sign up here: https://www.suzanneculberg.com/newsletter A simple way to make my day – please subscribe to my YouTube channel - https://www.youtube.com/@suzanneculberg The Nope coach Suzanne Culberg teaches you how to put yourself first without feeling selfish, by setting healthy boundaries and reclaiming the unapologetic badass you long to be. Find out more: https://www.suzanneculberg.com Get in touch with Suzanne here: https://www.suzanneculberg.com/contact (in typical Suze style this is NOT your usual contact page!)

When an exhausted engineer falls asleep at the throttle, his high-speed troop train plows into a stalled circus train in the dead of night, igniting a hellish inferno that traps and consumes sleeping performers aboard the doomed antique coaches. Subscribe on your favorite podcasting apps: https://talkmurder.com/subscribeSupport us on patreon: https://patreon.com/talkmurderSee our technology: https://talkmurder.com/gearContent warning: the true crime stories discussed on this podcast can involve graphic and disturbing subject matter. Listener discretion is strongly advised.Fair use disclaimer: some materials used in this work are included under the fair use doctrine for educational purposes. Any copyrighted materials are owned by their respective copyright holders. Questions regarding use of copyrighted materials may be directed to legal [@] Talkocast.com

Real-Life Swinger Stories| Club Trapeze: Naughty Nurses and Orgy Rooms | Episode 112Join Dan and Lacy, the charismatic hosts of the The Swing Nation Podcast, as they take you on a wild journey through the exciting world of non-monogamy and swinging.In this episode, we delve into the exhilarating world of Club Trapeze in Atlanta for Naughty Nurses Night. The adventure begins on Friday with a steamy hot tub couple swap with our close friends, setting the stage for a weekend filled with passion and exploration. Saturday night takes us to the club, where a sea of naughty nurses and new friends await. As inhibitions melt away, the night culminates in an unforgettable experience in the orgy room. Tune in to hear all the juicy details of this unforgettable weekend of pleasure and connection. Don't miss out on this top-rated lifestyle podcast that's breaking boundaries and opening minds!- The Swing Nation - Main Website Quick Navigation Website: -- (Find all our social media links & more!) Follow us on Facebook! The Podcast Website- Swinger Society - Our Website to meet, connect & events Swinger Society Discord Our Facebook Group- Swinger Websites -Kasadie 90 day free trialUsername: TheSwingNation SDC 14 day free trial Username: TheSwingNation** Use code 36313 for 14 days free! ** SLSUsername: NorthernGuynSouthernGirl- Merch & More - The Swing Nation Merch The Swinger Pride Flags Swinger Society Merch- Lacy's Fun Links - VIP OnlyFans PREMIUM OnlyFans -- THANK YOU TO OUR SPONSORS --Wisp : Making sexual healthcare inclusive, cost-effective, and accessible—for everyoneUse Code SWING at checkout for 15% off your oder! Shameless Care: ED Medication and at home STD testingUse Code TSN at checkout for $30 off your order!Promescent® Make Love Longer, It's Time for Great SexUse Code SwingNation for 5% off!Pinaq Liqueur; The Official Drink of The Swing NationUse Code TSN at checkout for 15% off!Support the showSupport the show- Thank you for the support! -

Real-Life Swinger Stories| Weekend to Remember Part 1, Secrets Hideaway Resort | Episode 110Join Dan and Lacy, the charismatic hosts of the The Swing Nation Podcast, as they take you on a wild journey through the exciting world of non-monogamy and swinging.In this exciting episode, part 1 of the Swinger Society  "Weekend to Remember" takeover of Secrets Hideaway Resort in Kissimmee, FL. First, they get the opportunity to tour of the renowned Trapeze in Fort Lauderdale, capturing the essence of this famous destination. Then, they kick off the party early at Secrets with a meet and greet dinner, setting the stage for an evening filled with anticipation and connection.As the night progresses, the atmosphere heats up during the pineapple club night, where desires are unleashed and inhibitions fade away. Join Dan and Lacy as they invite their closest friends to partake in an exhilarating orgy, an experience that promises to be both exciting and unforgettable.- The Swing Nation - Main Website Quick Navigation Website: -- (Find all our social media links & more!) Follow us on Facebook! The Podcast Website- Swinger Society - Our Website to meet, connect & events Swinger Society Discord Our Facebook Group- Swinger Websites -Kasadie 90 day free trialUsername: TheSwingNation SDC 14 day free trial Username: TheSwingNation** Use code 36313 for 14 days free! ** SLSUsername: NorthernGuynSouthernGirl- Merch & More - The Swing Nation Merch The Swinger Pride Flags Swinger Society Merch- Lacy's Fun Links - VIP OnlyFans PREMIUM OnlyFans -- THANK YOU TO OUR SPONSORS --Wisp : Making sexual healthcare inclusive, cost-effective, and accessible—for everyoneUse Code SWING at checkout for 15% off your oder! Shameless Care: ED Medication and at home STD testingUse Code TSN at checkout for $30 off your order!Promescent® Make Love Longer, It's Time for Great SexUse Code SwingNation for 5% off!Pinaq Liqueur; The Official Drink of The Swing NationUse Code TSN at checkout for 15% off!Support the show- Thank you for the support! -