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I spoke with Michèle Stephenson, Joe Brewster, & idris brewster about There Goes Nikki at Tribeca Immersive 2025. See more context in the rough transcript below. (Photo by Mikhail Mishin courtesy of Onassis ONX) Tribeca Immersive 2025 Selection #1567: Tribeca Immersive Curators on the 2025 Selection of Impact Projects Curated by Onassis ONX, Agog, & Tribeca #1569: Family of Storytellers Creates an AR Memorial of Black Poet Nikki Giovanni with Epic Organic Garden Installation #1570: "The Founders Pillars and The Power Loom" Uses AR to Recontextualize Wall Street History Through African Textiles and Myths #1571: "Uncharted VR" Explores the Spatialization of African Languages and Knowledge through Immersive Architecture and Adowa Dance #1572: "The Innocence of Unknowing" Uses Socratic Dialogue with AI & Video Essay to Deconstruct Root Cases of Gun Violence #1573: Muslim Futurist "New Maqam City" Invites Users to Play with Mystic Sufi Beats to Imagine States of Flourishing #1574: Part 1: Co-Creation with XR for Building Community with "A Father's Lullaby" (2023) #1575: Part 2: Co-Creation with XR for Building Community with "A Father's Lullaby" (2025) Boreal Dreams Scent Onassis ONX Summer Showcase & Other Interviews #1579: The Backstory of ONX Studios and the Onassis Foundation's Support for XR Art & Innovation #1580: "Neuro-Cinema: From Synapse to Montage" Explores Bioethics Moral Dilemmas & BCI-Controlled Editing & Robotics #1581: The Story Behind "The Orixa Project" Series of XR Experiences #1582: Shawn Taylor on Fandom for Social Change, Polychronic Time, Worldbuilding & Future Dreaming #1583: From XR Storytelling to Museum to Ice Cream to AI: Michaela Ternasky-Holland's Entry into Immersive #1584: White Paper on XR for Impact Campaign Activation for "On the Morning You Wake to the End of the World" #1585: Debating AI Project and a Curating Taiwanese LBE VR Exhibition at Museum of Moving Image #1586: Academic Research on Immersive Storytelling with Philippe Bedard, co-editor of "States of Immersion Across Media: Bodies, Techniques, Practices" book #1587: "Space-Time Adventure Tour" AR Guided Tour to NYC Central Park Monuments #1588: Excurio on Bringing their High-Throughput, XR LBE Theaters to North America #1589: Using VR to Paint Dreams for Active Imagination, Collaborative Dreamwork, and Symbolic Contemplation This is a listener-supported podcast through the Voices of VR Patreon. Music: Fatality
I spoke with Ryat Yezbick & Milo Talwani about The Innocence of Unknowing at Tribeca Immersive 2025. See more context in the rough transcript below. (Photo by Mikhail Mishin courtesy of Onassis ONX) This is a listener-supported podcast through the Voices of VR Patreon. Music: Fatality
My new album PLACES OF UNKNOWING has arrived link to LP (release date July 18th 2025) https://lnk.to/placesofunknowing WOO!! Let's get on with the show! Meet Pascal :) What a treat it has been to welcome this man into my life Not only did he give me confidence and skills to play the piano for the first time in my life, he toiled to transcribe my vocal multitracks and save them from dying on the hard drive. He sat with me and the recording crew in the studio for 5 hours to assist our cellist as this same song took shape With patience and encouragement that's very rare and deeply contagious. Speaking my language just as fluently as the classic players He's been the bridge to many lands This new LP - Places of Unknowing that's OUT July 18th 2025 Would not have existed without Pascal. It's as simple as that. He set the ball rolling and helped me so so much along the way. I was watching the live show footage last night. The concert of the record that was performed in Nashville March 2025 with a wonderful group of musicians. Some of them were professional like Rob Burger, Ethan Jodziewicz and Lee Vinson but many students joined from Blair college of music. Pascal was working at the school at the time and drummed up interest, found us a room to practice in and kept it all together with so little time. He not only found all these great players but he then remade arrangements from the album for woodwind Beautiful arrangements. I was in tears last night. Just thinking of that night and all the time leading up to it It took so long and so much energy to pull it together. Life has moved from that time and now Pascal is leaving to MIT in Boston with his wife and kids I couldn't be happier for them !!! I mean come on. MIT!!! He really is one of the most inspiring people I've met and I'm so happy to get to share this pod and the window it opens to his world. With one grammy under his belt already, watch out for him This will not be the last time you hear about Pascal. He's the real deal. Im very lucky to call him a friend x ____ I thought it might be useful to share some links to musicians Pascal references in this chat as many are new to me and maybe to you too :) LINKSSSSS!!! https://miguelzenon.com/videos/ https://www.daniloperez.com/video https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geri_Allen https://www.aaronparks.com https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brad_Mehldau https://www.kurtrosenwinkel.com https://milestilmann.bandcamp.com/album/3d-concepts Thomas Adès: In Seven Days https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2B4KOGyTTk https://www.donnachadennehy.com/discography Louis Andriessen - Hoketus (1977) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=palDwGpg3ME
Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.
Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.
Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.
Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.
Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.
In this eye-opening episode, I am joined by renowned olive oil expert Dr. Rod Mailer to uncover the shocking truths behind one of the most misunderstood ingredients in our kitchens: olive oil. Together, we explore the science, sourcing, and scandals behind olive oil—what it really means when a bottle says “extra virgin,” how processing and storage impact its quality, and why so much of what we buy may not be what it claims to be. We also dive into the science of why seed oils—like canola, soybean, and sunflower—pose serious health risks, and how they've infiltrated modern diets to a dangerous degree. Whether you're a health-conscious consumer or just want to know what's actually in your food, this episode will change the way you think about fat. About Dr. Rod Mailer: Dr. Rodney Mailer is a leading expert in olive oil quality and production, instrumental in developing Australia's olive oil industry. He founded and led the Australian Oils Research Laboratory and has worked globally to combat adulteration and ensure authenticity in extra virgin olive oil. Dr. Mailer continues to help shape international standards for edible oils through his roles with the International Standards Organisation, Codex Alimentarius, and Standards Australia. *** Subscribe to The Neuroscience Experience for more conversations at the intersection of brain science and performance. I'm committed to bringing you evidence-based insights that you can apply to your own health journey. *** A huge thank you to my sponsors for supporting this episode. Check them out and enjoy exclusive discounts: Fatty15: Get 15% off your 90-day Starter Kit when you visit www.fatty15.com/neuro | Code: NEURO Boncharge: www.boncharge.com | Code: NEURO15 Branch Basics: www.branchbasics.com to shop their Premium Starter Kit and save 15% | Code: NEURO Ketone IQ: www.ketone.com/NEURO for 30% OFF your subscription order + receive a free gift with your second shipment MUDWTR - The coffee alternative. If you're ready to ditch the crash and sip smarter, go to mudwtr.com and use code NEURO to get 43% off + free shipping. *** Topics discussed: 00:00:08: The harmful effects of seed oils 00:01:35: Misinformation via social media 00:02:56: Why are seed oils killing us? 00:09:51: Why fry in seed oil and not olive oil? 00:17:50: How olive oil is manufactured 00:19:33: Different types of olives 00:23:01: Olive oil tasting 00:25:24: The controversy of the olive oil industry 00:28:09: Cold pressed olive oil 00:35:00: Which oil to buy in Australia 00:37:11: Storage and shipment issues 00:38:36: What to look for in the supermarket 00:41:12: What makes olive oil bad? 00:44:10: The importance of the manufacturer 00:45:09: Labeling discrepancies of olive oil 00:49:38: Anything can sell on Amazon 00:51:01: Unknowing blending of oils 00:53:27: Consuming olive oil for longevity 00:54:52: Clinical epidemiology *** I'm Louisa Nicola — clinical neuroscientist — Alzheimer's prevention specialist — founder of Neuro Athletics. My mission is to translate cutting-edge neuroscience into actionable strategies for cognitive longevity, peak performance, and brain disease prevention. If you're committed to optimizing your brain — reducing Alzheimer's risk — and staying mentally sharp for life, you're in the right place. Stay sharp. Stay informed. Join thousands who subscribe to the Neuro Athletics Newsletter → https://bit.ly/3ewI5P0 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/louisanicola_/ Twitter : https://twitter.com/louisanicola_
JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York
JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York
JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York
Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} HEHEHEHE. HEY! Relax. NO. This party is OUT of control. SOMEBODY GO GET QUESTLOVE OUT THAT TREE. HAH! Shutup. NIGGA GET THE FUCK UP OUTTA DAT TREE. _____ Some party. I guess. Why is Questlove in a tree. I don't know. That party is pretty wild. This is insane. _ NIGGA GET THE FUCK OUT THE TREE. _ YO. where are you AT. I'm at the kiosk. You're not at the kiosk! I'm at the kiosk! It's probably another kiosk, then. What! [he walks a few feet. There is indeed another kiosk; upon further investigation, there is a kiosk every few feet.] What! I gotta go. My phone's about to– Hello. [Everywhere is kiosks. This is frustrating.] Dammit. WHAT. {Enter The Multiverse] A very large prized pig is captured and literally hogtied, however–this is a challenge. The pig, while beautiful, is also humongous–and appears to understand that he is being pignapped. Why would I tel the whole story When no one loves me If I had a gun, Well, I would be gone already? Why trek to Alaska For thousands of dollars To come home to no one and nobody But rotten corpses on motorcycles Where it just starts over But now you're poorer. I want to die But I want to see my son again. He's not suffering, I am But starting to resent what he doesn't understand. To the world I'm a horrible mother But no one quite knows the half of it but God And the whole problem is what is not God in the world Is all for the other's purpose. Some probably respect I was punched In front of my son And then wonder's why At some point I could no longer Hold on Insomniac So someone should go slam the door when I ponder my own thoughts I'd probably walk off a walk on roll I don't lock up no more I just go out Knowing government drones probably watch And turn over the apartment As I'm out trying to own a home But of course, nothing I do in the world is of value And I'm no one No one at all in New York and the options are Where I don't want to be Or in Saint Monica homeless. I'd get a dog if I wanted to walk it But since I don't I just sit with a plush in my lap Who I call “Gus” And it purposeless But otherwise meaningful Since from here and now And otherwise Nobody has ever loved me As much as my mother And that's saying something If you knew the whole story So no one has loved me romantically; Almost all my life was a horror show Until I started to grow up With the knowing that probably Nothing I do could be more than wrong So doing nothing becomes the hard part When all I watch are stars And I'm just not one Then again, you know It was that word That threw the first punch And then over and over And over and over And nobody loves me But everybody's got a whole story And new York's disgusting because of it How troublesome I don't have time for your politics It's a mind game but there's no reward, Or honor in it After all, when tied up in the court process And pretending the noise was not a problem And I should be so lucky In a luxury apartment Coming out of a homeless shelter But it's almost been just as horrible As other black girls trying to pull my hair out Having screaming pigs and ugly men on motorcycles Drive in circles Wearing jackets that say “I have to do this, cause Jack says” And whoever Jack is writes them pychecks Except Since it politics He might even be getting over considering Passion fuels the utmost violence And in this case Imm supposed to be the only one To go about it All the paperwork and recordings But really I don't want to Even if it earns a millions dollars In the name of God It wasn't my problem Unless I am one And otherwise, These men are sick And making people sick Is just their business I need no medication I need an new apartment But how awful my country supports that I just don't deserve one Under the circumstances But the white man Lives on borrowed time In bloodshed On stolen land Regardless of color The illusion of power Is almost over And what's more is Your only army Is considering going home (Post mortem) Considering going to God Who must have lost control just enough To cause all of the apocalypse Put the whole world in a mental hospital And lock them up for dollars and cents Unless the good drugs make sense For the blondes and the beautiful The rest of them are problems Who can go to rot, I suppose. The rest of us are unwanted colored problems Can't stay here But the kids at the music school are fake nice And I'm done pulling my heart out And scratching my eyes out Just fucking trying Just fucking trying What is the point Of being in a prison For people who love oceans and trees And decent people? There's no one in New York to really love But babies and dogs And the whole world is horrible just knowing that I don't want to do anything but die Every time I ride the subway I wish I was white From the way that that white folks treat me And I wish I was blonde Because blondes seem to have it so fucking easy It's hard to believe I'm furious, furious Aren't you curious, curious how I got here? I'm serious, serious You should let me in, let me in I'm serious, serious You should have let me in, let me in Is he okay, Is he okay? Now I'm David Grohl on the whole retrospective Now I'm an old rockstar with some world left Now I know I'm the one with the mother gone Now I know, Now I know Now I know… That I don't Overall, I don't Somebody new Somebody grain and l steaming Somebody hidden and secret and wishing well Wishing well in Hell Or midtown Manhattan Or middle man Or Middle East Or Midwest Or just middle Somewhere else I, Learned to live her Learn to live here— Feeling better Feeling worn out, Look at this disgusting place Now where I live matches how I feel Going here from there, and four to five And no matter what I take the L, But it's jail and the guards are on motorcycles Controlling your thoughts for a zoning war I have heard of her And from earth to the core of our other outer planets, Further species, I know I've been here before, But on some shore I'm surfing So sure I did something wrong I don't want to know her But j don't know what other force of nature Might have caused this Caution The cautionary tale is coming Sure I never know what the other God wrote But I'm not living God, I'm a problem woman at the moment We're all technically free people, Not actually incarcerated But when it comes to wealth and racism, hatred You better bet we're all slaves And they not even Jesus can save us Even if he makes it in time, And the thing is with this one, Time precedes even his own existence Sorry my brother They want the war here I've got a heart for honor and honesty and hard word But no one seems to care or notice Not at all No one even knows my name And no one even offers a spot on the bus Or a quick dollar. What it means To be so tired That by the time you're back All you do is watch And try not to reflect On the ugly and awkward Imagine all the time in the world To be nothing but God and go Golfing. And be perfect, a woman Whatever you chose to do is the whole of it And no one can own you, Besides for on paper You government name has betrayed you, they say Your government name has betrayed you. Do you know how good you look? Not goof enough to get a good one Do you know how much medication it makes To make meditation the start of you day I've run all out of energy And the vampires seem to think That's what's wrong with me Altoigh I'm the one feeding these creatures Thats okay Lately, I have more than I need They can trim the fat And take all the hard stuff Till I become one of them And they start to wonder What the fuck is wrong with all of us I left my light at home, sufererer— I should be surfing, But I'm writing psalms and songbooks Fawning over songbirds and beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful genetic weapons One day I'll become her I'm not supposed to say the most l Or really anything at all And it all hurts But we're all here And I'll kill my self one day Probably right here, near this station If not in it Who brought a trouser pantsuit to the apocalypse Cryptic, these runes, But I can decipher it I want a dolphin, a dolphin, a dolphin I want to love them all But to all of them I'm hopeless I can't help falling for I'm not the one to hold on, m I l [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved
Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} HEHEHEHE. HEY! Relax. NO. This party is OUT of control. SOMEBODY GO GET QUESTLOVE OUT THAT TREE. HAH! Shutup. NIGGA GET THE FUCK UP OUTTA DAT TREE. _____ Some party. I guess. Why is Questlove in a tree. I don't know. That party is pretty wild. This is insane. _ NIGGA GET THE FUCK OUT THE TREE. _ YO. where are you AT. I'm at the kiosk. You're not at the kiosk! I'm at the kiosk! It's probably another kiosk, then. What! [he walks a few feet. There is indeed another kiosk; upon further investigation, there is a kiosk every few feet.] What! I gotta go. My phone's about to– Hello. [Everywhere is kiosks. This is frustrating.] Dammit. WHAT. {Enter The Multiverse] A very large prized pig is captured and literally hogtied, however–this is a challenge. The pig, while beautiful, is also humongous–and appears to understand that he is being pignapped. Why would I tel the whole story When no one loves me If I had a gun, Well, I would be gone already? Why trek to Alaska For thousands of dollars To come home to no one and nobody But rotten corpses on motorcycles Where it just starts over But now you're poorer. I want to die But I want to see my son again. He's not suffering, I am But starting to resent what he doesn't understand. To the world I'm a horrible mother But no one quite knows the half of it but God And the whole problem is what is not God in the world Is all for the other's purpose. Some probably respect I was punched In front of my son And then wonder's why At some point I could no longer Hold on Insomniac So someone should go slam the door when I ponder my own thoughts I'd probably walk off a walk on roll I don't lock up no more I just go out Knowing government drones probably watch And turn over the apartment As I'm out trying to own a home But of course, nothing I do in the world is of value And I'm no one No one at all in New York and the options are Where I don't want to be Or in Saint Monica homeless. I'd get a dog if I wanted to walk it But since I don't I just sit with a plush in my lap Who I call “Gus” And it purposeless But otherwise meaningful Since from here and now And otherwise Nobody has ever loved me As much as my mother And that's saying something If you knew the whole story So no one has loved me romantically; Almost all my life was a horror show Until I started to grow up With the knowing that probably Nothing I do could be more than wrong So doing nothing becomes the hard part When all I watch are stars And I'm just not one Then again, you know It was that word That threw the first punch And then over and over And over and over And nobody loves me But everybody's got a whole story And new York's disgusting because of it How troublesome I don't have time for your politics It's a mind game but there's no reward, Or honor in it After all, when tied up in the court process And pretending the noise was not a problem And I should be so lucky In a luxury apartment Coming out of a homeless shelter But it's almost been just as horrible As other black girls trying to pull my hair out Having screaming pigs and ugly men on motorcycles Drive in circles Wearing jackets that say “I have to do this, cause Jack says” And whoever Jack is writes them pychecks Except Since it politics He might even be getting over considering Passion fuels the utmost violence And in this case Imm supposed to be the only one To go about it All the paperwork and recordings But really I don't want to Even if it earns a millions dollars In the name of God It wasn't my problem Unless I am one And otherwise, These men are sick And making people sick Is just their business I need no medication I need an new apartment But how awful my country supports that I just don't deserve one Under the circumstances But the white man Lives on borrowed time In bloodshed On stolen land Regardless of color The illusion of power Is almost over And what's more is Your only army Is considering going home (Post mortem) Considering going to God Who must have lost control just enough To cause all of the apocalypse Put the whole world in a mental hospital And lock them up for dollars and cents Unless the good drugs make sense For the blondes and the beautiful The rest of them are problems Who can go to rot, I suppose. The rest of us are unwanted colored problems Can't stay here But the kids at the music school are fake nice And I'm done pulling my heart out And scratching my eyes out Just fucking trying Just fucking trying What is the point Of being in a prison For people who love oceans and trees And decent people? There's no one in New York to really love But babies and dogs And the whole world is horrible just knowing that I don't want to do anything but die Every time I ride the subway I wish I was white From the way that that white folks treat me And I wish I was blonde Because blondes seem to have it so fucking easy It's hard to believe I'm furious, furious Aren't you curious, curious how I got here? I'm serious, serious You should let me in, let me in I'm serious, serious You should have let me in, let me in Is he okay, Is he okay? Now I'm David Grohl on the whole retrospective Now I'm an old rockstar with some world left Now I know I'm the one with the mother gone Now I know, Now I know Now I know… That I don't Overall, I don't Somebody new Somebody grain and l steaming Somebody hidden and secret and wishing well Wishing well in Hell Or midtown Manhattan Or middle man Or Middle East Or Midwest Or just middle Somewhere else I, Learned to live her Learn to live here— Feeling better Feeling worn out, Look at this disgusting place Now where I live matches how I feel Going here from there, and four to five And no matter what I take the L, But it's jail and the guards are on motorcycles Controlling your thoughts for a zoning war I have heard of her And from earth to the core of our other outer planets, Further species, I know I've been here before, But on some shore I'm surfing So sure I did something wrong I don't want to know her But j don't know what other force of nature Might have caused this Caution The cautionary tale is coming Sure I never know what the other God wrote But I'm not living God, I'm a problem woman at the moment We're all technically free people, Not actually incarcerated But when it comes to wealth and racism, hatred You better bet we're all slaves And they not even Jesus can save us Even if he makes it in time, And the thing is with this one, Time precedes even his own existence Sorry my brother They want the war here I've got a heart for honor and honesty and hard word But no one seems to care or notice Not at all No one even knows my name And no one even offers a spot on the bus Or a quick dollar. What it means To be so tired That by the time you're back All you do is watch And try not to reflect On the ugly and awkward Imagine all the time in the world To be nothing but God and go Golfing. And be perfect, a woman Whatever you chose to do is the whole of it And no one can own you, Besides for on paper You government name has betrayed you, they say Your government name has betrayed you. Do you know how good you look? Not goof enough to get a good one Do you know how much medication it makes To make meditation the start of you day I've run all out of energy And the vampires seem to think That's what's wrong with me Altoigh I'm the one feeding these creatures Thats okay Lately, I have more than I need They can trim the fat And take all the hard stuff Till I become one of them And they start to wonder What the fuck is wrong with all of us I left my light at home, sufererer— I should be surfing, But I'm writing psalms and songbooks Fawning over songbirds and beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful genetic weapons One day I'll become her I'm not supposed to say the most l Or really anything at all And it all hurts But we're all here And I'll kill my self one day Probably right here, near this station If not in it Who brought a trouser pantsuit to the apocalypse Cryptic, these runes, But I can decipher it I want a dolphin, a dolphin, a dolphin I want to love them all But to all of them I'm hopeless I can't help falling for I'm not the one to hold on, m I l [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved
Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} HEHEHEHE. HEY! Relax. NO. This party is OUT of control. SOMEBODY GO GET QUESTLOVE OUT THAT TREE. HAH! Shutup. NIGGA GET THE FUCK UP OUTTA DAT TREE. _____ Some party. I guess. Why is Questlove in a tree. I don't know. That party is pretty wild. This is insane. _ NIGGA GET THE FUCK OUT THE TREE. _ YO. where are you AT. I'm at the kiosk. You're not at the kiosk! I'm at the kiosk! It's probably another kiosk, then. What! [he walks a few feet. There is indeed another kiosk; upon further investigation, there is a kiosk every few feet.] What! I gotta go. My phone's about to– Hello. [Everywhere is kiosks. This is frustrating.] Dammit. WHAT. {Enter The Multiverse] A very large prized pig is captured and literally hogtied, however–this is a challenge. The pig, while beautiful, is also humongous–and appears to understand that he is being pignapped. Why would I tel the whole story When no one loves me If I had a gun, Well, I would be gone already? Why trek to Alaska For thousands of dollars To come home to no one and nobody But rotten corpses on motorcycles Where it just starts over But now you're poorer. I want to die But I want to see my son again. He's not suffering, I am But starting to resent what he doesn't understand. To the world I'm a horrible mother But no one quite knows the half of it but God And the whole problem is what is not God in the world Is all for the other's purpose. Some probably respect I was punched In front of my son And then wonder's why At some point I could no longer Hold on Insomniac So someone should go slam the door when I ponder my own thoughts I'd probably walk off a walk on roll I don't lock up no more I just go out Knowing government drones probably watch And turn over the apartment As I'm out trying to own a home But of course, nothing I do in the world is of value And I'm no one No one at all in New York and the options are Where I don't want to be Or in Saint Monica homeless. I'd get a dog if I wanted to walk it But since I don't I just sit with a plush in my lap Who I call “Gus” And it purposeless But otherwise meaningful Since from here and now And otherwise Nobody has ever loved me As much as my mother And that's saying something If you knew the whole story So no one has loved me romantically; Almost all my life was a horror show Until I started to grow up With the knowing that probably Nothing I do could be more than wrong So doing nothing becomes the hard part When all I watch are stars And I'm just not one Then again, you know It was that word That threw the first punch And then over and over And over and over And nobody loves me But everybody's got a whole story And new York's disgusting because of it How troublesome I don't have time for your politics It's a mind game but there's no reward, Or honor in it After all, when tied up in the court process And pretending the noise was not a problem And I should be so lucky In a luxury apartment Coming out of a homeless shelter But it's almost been just as horrible As other black girls trying to pull my hair out Having screaming pigs and ugly men on motorcycles Drive in circles Wearing jackets that say “I have to do this, cause Jack says” And whoever Jack is writes them pychecks Except Since it politics He might even be getting over considering Passion fuels the utmost violence And in this case Imm supposed to be the only one To go about it All the paperwork and recordings But really I don't want to Even if it earns a millions dollars In the name of God It wasn't my problem Unless I am one And otherwise, These men are sick And making people sick Is just their business I need no medication I need an new apartment But how awful my country supports that I just don't deserve one Under the circumstances But the white man Lives on borrowed time In bloodshed On stolen land Regardless of color The illusion of power Is almost over And what's more is Your only army Is considering going home (Post mortem) Considering going to God Who must have lost control just enough To cause all of the apocalypse Put the whole world in a mental hospital And lock them up for dollars and cents Unless the good drugs make sense For the blondes and the beautiful The rest of them are problems Who can go to rot, I suppose. The rest of us are unwanted colored problems Can't stay here But the kids at the music school are fake nice And I'm done pulling my heart out And scratching my eyes out Just fucking trying Just fucking trying What is the point Of being in a prison For people who love oceans and trees And decent people? There's no one in New York to really love But babies and dogs And the whole world is horrible just knowing that I don't want to do anything but die Every time I ride the subway I wish I was white From the way that that white folks treat me And I wish I was blonde Because blondes seem to have it so fucking easy It's hard to believe I'm furious, furious Aren't you curious, curious how I got here? I'm serious, serious You should let me in, let me in I'm serious, serious You should have let me in, let me in Is he okay, Is he okay? Now I'm David Grohl on the whole retrospective Now I'm an old rockstar with some world left Now I know I'm the one with the mother gone Now I know, Now I know Now I know… That I don't Overall, I don't Somebody new Somebody grain and l steaming Somebody hidden and secret and wishing well Wishing well in Hell Or midtown Manhattan Or middle man Or Middle East Or Midwest Or just middle Somewhere else I, Learned to live her Learn to live here— Feeling better Feeling worn out, Look at this disgusting place Now where I live matches how I feel Going here from there, and four to five And no matter what I take the L, But it's jail and the guards are on motorcycles Controlling your thoughts for a zoning war I have heard of her And from earth to the core of our other outer planets, Further species, I know I've been here before, But on some shore I'm surfing So sure I did something wrong I don't want to know her But j don't know what other force of nature Might have caused this Caution The cautionary tale is coming Sure I never know what the other God wrote But I'm not living God, I'm a problem woman at the moment We're all technically free people, Not actually incarcerated But when it comes to wealth and racism, hatred You better bet we're all slaves And they not even Jesus can save us Even if he makes it in time, And the thing is with this one, Time precedes even his own existence Sorry my brother They want the war here I've got a heart for honor and honesty and hard word But no one seems to care or notice Not at all No one even knows my name And no one even offers a spot on the bus Or a quick dollar. What it means To be so tired That by the time you're back All you do is watch And try not to reflect On the ugly and awkward Imagine all the time in the world To be nothing but God and go Golfing. And be perfect, a woman Whatever you chose to do is the whole of it And no one can own you, Besides for on paper You government name has betrayed you, they say Your government name has betrayed you. Do you know how good you look? Not goof enough to get a good one Do you know how much medication it makes To make meditation the start of you day I've run all out of energy And the vampires seem to think That's what's wrong with me Altoigh I'm the one feeding these creatures Thats okay Lately, I have more than I need They can trim the fat And take all the hard stuff Till I become one of them And they start to wonder What the fuck is wrong with all of us I left my light at home, sufererer— I should be surfing, But I'm writing psalms and songbooks Fawning over songbirds and beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful genetic weapons One day I'll become her I'm not supposed to say the most l Or really anything at all And it all hurts But we're all here And I'll kill my self one day Probably right here, near this station If not in it Who brought a trouser pantsuit to the apocalypse Cryptic, these runes, But I can decipher it I want a dolphin, a dolphin, a dolphin I want to love them all But to all of them I'm hopeless I can't help falling for I'm not the one to hold on, m I l [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved
James Harpur's new book, "Dazzling Darkness: The Lives and Afterlives of the Christian Mystics", begins with an account of a mystical experience that happened to him - “an implosion of light”, as he describes it. That led to his book, Dazzling Darkness, in pursuit of the path that leads to ultimate reality: God.Mark Vernon's new book, "Awake! William Blake and the Power of the Imagination", is the result of Mark's engagement with his local mystic, William Blake, as well as practices based on encounters and texts including The Cloud of Unknowing.In this conversation they explore the nature of mystical experience, as well as the mystics that speak powerfully to them, from Saint Columba to William Blake, via Marguerite Porete and Teresa of Avila, Ramana Maharshi and Krishnamurti.For more on James's book, Dazzling Darkness - https://www.hurstpublishers.com/book/dazzling-darkness/For more on Mark's book, Awake! - https://www.hurstpublishers.com/book/awake/0:00 Two books on mysticism!01:55 James's mystical experience07:00 Mark's encounter through contemplative practice11:58 The Irish mystics that speak to James18:00 Living the porous life22:49 Mysticism after monasticism29:30 Church life and mystical life32:01 Seeking spiritual directors33:00 The voice of Krishnamurti40:32 The presence amidst the diversity42:30 What happens after the ecstasy?52:00 Sustaining the double vision
We dive into how to connect directly with the Dharma, how to avoid turning Buddhism into an obstacle to it's practice, and the principle of unknowing, or beginner's mind, as a path of awakening in every moment. Support the showOur website is lamataboot.com, Instagram: @lamataboot, and YouTube: @lamatabootFind Lama Adam at lamaadam.com. His nonprofit is Mindfulness For Life at mindfulness-for-life.org and on Instagram @mindfulnessforlifeorg. One-on-one coaching and consulting with Lama Adam is available, and helps to support MFL's mission of bringing free, trauma-informed mindfulness and mediation to underserved communities. Find Lama Mitchell on Instagram @lamamitchellsingletary. His band Humid Subtropic is on Instagram @humidsubtropic, and listen to their new live album wherever you stream your music. The Cheetah House is an organization that offers help for meditators in distress. If you've experienced adverse effects from meditation, we recommend connecting with the Cheetah House community.
He lives across the street and happens to be one of my fave musicians ever. Sometimes life is just like that right? He's played in so many rolls over the years both as a solo artist and film composer and as a player backing the heaviest like Laurie Anderson, Lou Reed, Marianne Faithfull, John Zorn and this bloke Jamie Lidell Yep, he's opened me up to so much great music and is one of the best improvisers I've ever heard. Just flowing with the music. He sits at the piano and he's away. With the muses that circle him. Great to present this audiobook length chronology for the archives. Rob has been such an important part of my musical world here in America. He's all over my upcoming album "Places of Unknowing" and throughout this chat I play excepts from the record that were played by the man himself. here we go!!!
“You don't need to sit with this medicine to be working with this frequency. If you're listening to this, you already are.” In this Mystical Series of This Cosmic Life, Tara Samadhi sits with her partner and co-facilitator, Geoff, to explore the profound realms of Bufo Alvarius 5-MeO-DMT. Together, they share personal stories, insights, and some sacred reflections on working with this potent medicine.Geoff offers his lived wisdom as a self-taught mystic, alchemist, and guide, reflecting on the non-conceptual nature of Bufo and how it works beyond the mind to create deep transformation. They speak on preparation, the importance of honoring the call, and the delicate art of serving this frequency—whether in ceremony or through self-guided paths.This conversation is both an offering and an invitation—to surrender, to trust, and to remember that the medicine begins working the moment we hear its whisper.
I have eyes in the back of my head I have goats at the top of my bed I have goats on the cap of my knee I think I wrote my own obituary Oh, you hetcha Bitch, you ain't me Shit be poppin off at the rock in 8 minutes exactly In studio 8H That's where I am, Amen again Cause I meant it And I mix in the pancake batter Perhaps some berries? Apparently not, 7 minutes and counting I'm at the Rock Now I'm putting away my don't ask, don't tell Ok. Okay? Okay? Now I'm making arrangements; Don't want to be your favorite, I just miss LA with a hankering Call Hank team USA That's FBI I'm so Walter White that I watch Saturday Night — not live, though I'm too broke for peacock, YouTube And cable! Dang, bro! How many subscriptions do I need Just not to dry myself to sleep. Send me some pictures January jonesing for a free ride scholarship To on God university, Aka: inside the TV DOBT BE EVIL. WRITE ME A SEQUEL! Ok tv people First just let me … son of a bitch! I told you she'd be back. Yo. Whaddup. You killed Jimmy Fallon! I did not. You did! Yes you did. I didn't. He was already like that. What! You heard me! Explain to me how— This man: [This man] *heavy gasps and anxietal wheezing fills the room* Explain this. Metaphisics. That doesn't explain anything. It explains everything, actually. *explodes* Excuse me, miss— do I smell a remix? No, that's pancakes. I got capacity for losers; I'm no longer lonely A broke in horse with no saddle Don't ride me less it's barevack Down and dirty Downhome and in the raw I like to buck And I like it hard A strong gallop and pull, Top speed Why I don't pay for dreams Why I got tv and movie stars in my dreams Why Ariana grande so pretty? Why when we leave outside the crowd still roaring for an e core? Why am I a mogul; Why do I look like a fashion icon? God for it right, I guess but why do I still feel Wildly unsatisfied The lights said I left the water on Turn the lights off Turn the water on I speak color, I am an animal I spoke 9 Gods I am an animal Rise to the occasion I broke the code I threw the rock off the rock k I smoke the fountain I run the block once Come twice Nice shockwave right there Hi God. A beautiful night to die But no time to fall I despaired on desire, Why right on Maine Radio towers Icons Beautiful glimmering city Mayday mayday went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Now rinse thoroughly Alright, alright. So hawked it. You hawked my father's antique stopwatch?! Sorry. Sorry?! AAAAGG— [The Festival Project ™{ Mayday mayday Went heywire They need more scriptwriters I want an empire I wrote half of the Super Bowl commercials Mayday mayday Oh man. Oh, fuck. You had better wash your hands before you touch my crotch. I don't. Give me—- my— body back. Nope. AUghhhh. My inspiration is dead in the water Can't watch hot ones That guy ruined it Ruined September And ruined October Ruined the cosmos And ruined my song, bro— I'm ruined. My inspiration is dead in the water I am a trash can, Man, this is awkward I won an award for songs post mortem Then I wrote more of them This is the afterlife I'm an immortal. My inspiration is dead in the water I'm just not moved man I need a baseball cap and some phantoms A laxatives Maybe some large hands A ball glove Some box seats Smoked sausage And the dodgers. I wanna go home and not be homeless. I want a condo above four stories. I want the whole world on top of its axis I want the other half of the balance My whole life been whack, Where's the reverse card? Run the tarot— Pull the rewards back, Don't touch the foreskin, Call back the foreman Redact that! Redact that! We're starting to crossfires. We met at the crossroads; One goes down, one goes up. Oh, the Irish are back, look: That's good— I got bored. {enter The multiverse} We were at blue suits and sweater vests And now I know better than To count on comics designed to be weather men Of pop culture— current events a spin on the news l went there for clarity, And left there confused. Confused. If the transmitter is at the World Trade Center, Then why is it every time I to go Rockefeller Center, I feel like I've just been electrocuted? Not enough to die, but like I'm buzzing all over and out of my body? Remarkably, and no matter what — Whenever I'm there, I just feel weird. Like, mad weird. Hey. What. Did you see a guy? I'm a guy. Really? Apparently. Well, I'm looking for this guy. I did see a guy like that. Really? Yeah. He was weird. Which way did he go? Uh. [Sunni BLU points up] Really? He went upstairs? Sure! Huh. Thanks. Whatever. I need you to need me I need me to be cool I need you to want me To love me To free me To love me To hold you I know you I know you I know. Knockout with a scarred lip Knockout was a good guy Knockout got knocked up Knockout had a good try Knockout got knocked out Knockout had a good cry Knockout got locked up Goodbye. Good luck. Here's a chalice. 09. Don't waste time. But I'm tired I'm shadow boxing my mind I'm lights out Candles lit I, I, I I, me, mine And God But I won't waste time I'm still dried out I got my eyes lost Wrapped around you In hindsight I'm behind Blind to the power I love my readheads and range rovers I lost my mind on mullholland Pull over and vomit And suddenly I'm at the Portal Plummet Plaza. [The Festival Project ™ ] The rock and the kite VI Rosie o donnel is chillin. Jimmy Kimmel kicks in the door. Oh look, the cat is back. Meow. To what do I owe the pleasure. You remember that cup of sugar you borrowed? …okay? I need it back. I see. —and my blender. Rosie o donnel takes a deep breath and then sighs. The cup of sugar I can help you with… the blender, I still need. Fair. Follow me. Rosie and Jimmy exit the room, the glimmer of the television still flickering on the green postered armchair with the remote control atop the armrest m; the actual cat (we presume) climbs up into the chair and appears to begin watching the TV? What's on the TV? Why, it's the very orogramme we're all currently tuned into. This just got meta. Again. The cat, looking bored, changes the channel to Garfield. Much better. He looks satisfied now, but is entirely still 199% just a cat. We presume. Your body ponders My eye wander to you're belt buckle My mind watches. Sorry. Your body calls me. My love hurts. I want you. My thought sparkles with the thought of a touch I'm not hungry, I just want you I desire to hold hands and then Dive off I thought you up to love you The time was wrong So now I watch That's all A long rush to nothing Dogtown, Godland. Longboards, longhairs, all body No shine, bro Hard wax, yellow soldier Wavestirm? Epoxy? North shore surf boards Surf harder Fuck New York I wanna go home Panoramic Hollywood golden Who lost apartheid Who first of all Chosen sources First mate Overboard Long hair Wrong rowboat Oh lover Lord of all I almost forgot it was Saturday, Saturday Night I was too busy not working I'm all yours for Passover I'm all ears, And now I get a sense that this Is my last and greatest trick; Disappearing for this, And again forever This is going to take Forever All wrong: You work for the network Interesting choice of wardrobe– another old code magician Ring on opposite finger– The other, I'm so much aware of The ice cream in tubs on the road Not melted, but partially hardened I can also feign confusion You don't say, You don't say, now. Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} [The Identity Crisis] The identity crisis, A loose knit muse, A fog of confusion At most, let with offline regaining of conciousness. No more monsters? All blondes are. Let them have you No grapple promotions (I know I can't afford you) New friends for relevance Prototypes of your tools Forward all immortals I'll see you when your shows stop Freckled glances Eyes reflecting light How strong I am Demolish monsters Social structure, constructs Not fair, are I? Nor earned, Only fair skinned Access Access Access denied. Crookshanks, old boy! The man turns around almost as if he doesn't want to, but obliges the other man, as he comes running towards him. My Goodness, you stink. Why of course! I'm a dog! [The Festival Project ™] The Complex Collective © | COPYRIGHT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED -Ū. {Reposts}
I have eyes in the back of my head I have goats at the top of my bed I have goats on the cap of my knee I think I wrote my own obituary Oh, you hetcha Bitch, you ain't me Shit be poppin off at the rock in 8 minutes exactly In studio 8H That's where I am, Amen again Cause I meant it And I mix in the pancake batter Perhaps some berries? Apparently not, 7 minutes and counting I'm at the Rock Now I'm putting away my don't ask, don't tell Ok. Okay? Okay? Now I'm making arrangements; Don't want to be your favorite, I just miss LA with a hankering Call Hank team USA That's FBI I'm so Walter White that I watch Saturday Night — not live, though I'm too broke for peacock, YouTube And cable! Dang, bro! How many subscriptions do I need Just not to dry myself to sleep. Send me some pictures January jonesing for a free ride scholarship To on God university, Aka: inside the TV DOBT BE EVIL. WRITE ME A SEQUEL! Ok tv people First just let me … son of a bitch! I told you she'd be back. Yo. Whaddup. You killed Jimmy Fallon! I did not. You did! Yes you did. I didn't. He was already like that. What! You heard me! Explain to me how— This man: [This man] *heavy gasps and anxietal wheezing fills the room* Explain this. Metaphisics. That doesn't explain anything. It explains everything, actually. *explodes* Excuse me, miss— do I smell a remix? No, that's pancakes. I got capacity for losers; I'm no longer lonely A broke in horse with no saddle Don't ride me less it's barevack Down and dirty Downhome and in the raw I like to buck And I like it hard A strong gallop and pull, Top speed Why I don't pay for dreams Why I got tv and movie stars in my dreams Why Ariana grande so pretty? Why when we leave outside the crowd still roaring for an e core? Why am I a mogul; Why do I look like a fashion icon? God for it right, I guess but why do I still feel Wildly unsatisfied The lights said I left the water on Turn the lights off Turn the water on I speak color, I am an animal I spoke 9 Gods I am an animal Rise to the occasion I broke the code I threw the rock off the rock k I smoke the fountain I run the block once Come twice Nice shockwave right there Hi God. A beautiful night to die But no time to fall I despaired on desire, Why right on Maine Radio towers Icons Beautiful glimmering city Mayday mayday went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Now rinse thoroughly Alright, alright. So hawked it. You hawked my father's antique stopwatch?! Sorry. Sorry?! AAAAGG— [The Festival Project ™{ Mayday mayday Went heywire They need more scriptwriters I want an empire I wrote half of the Super Bowl commercials Mayday mayday Oh man. Oh, fuck. You had better wash your hands before you touch my crotch. I don't. Give me—- my— body back. Nope. AUghhhh. My inspiration is dead in the water Can't watch hot ones That guy ruined it Ruined September And ruined October Ruined the cosmos And ruined my song, bro— I'm ruined. My inspiration is dead in the water I am a trash can, Man, this is awkward I won an award for songs post mortem Then I wrote more of them This is the afterlife I'm an immortal. My inspiration is dead in the water I'm just not moved man I need a baseball cap and some phantoms A laxatives Maybe some large hands A ball glove Some box seats Smoked sausage And the dodgers. I wanna go home and not be homeless. I want a condo above four stories. I want the whole world on top of its axis I want the other half of the balance My whole life been whack, Where's the reverse card? Run the tarot— Pull the rewards back, Don't touch the foreskin, Call back the foreman Redact that! Redact that! We're starting to crossfires. We met at the crossroads; One goes down, one goes up. Oh, the Irish are back, look: That's good— I got bored. {enter The multiverse} We were at blue suits and sweater vests And now I know better than To count on comics designed to be weather men Of pop culture— current events a spin on the news l went there for clarity, And left there confused. Confused. If the transmitter is at the World Trade Center, Then why is it every time I to go Rockefeller Center, I feel like I've just been electrocuted? Not enough to die, but like I'm buzzing all over and out of my body? Remarkably, and no matter what — Whenever I'm there, I just feel weird. Like, mad weird. Hey. What. Did you see a guy? I'm a guy. Really? Apparently. Well, I'm looking for this guy. I did see a guy like that. Really? Yeah. He was weird. Which way did he go? Uh. [Sunni BLU points up] Really? He went upstairs? Sure! Huh. Thanks. Whatever. I need you to need me I need me to be cool I need you to want me To love me To free me To love me To hold you I know you I know you I know. Knockout with a scarred lip Knockout was a good guy Knockout got knocked up Knockout had a good try Knockout got knocked out Knockout had a good cry Knockout got locked up Goodbye. Good luck. Here's a chalice. 09. Don't waste time. But I'm tired I'm shadow boxing my mind I'm lights out Candles lit I, I, I I, me, mine And God But I won't waste time I'm still dried out I got my eyes lost Wrapped around you In hindsight I'm behind Blind to the power I love my readheads and range rovers I lost my mind on mullholland Pull over and vomit And suddenly I'm at the Portal Plummet Plaza. [The Festival Project ™ ] The rock and the kite VI Rosie o donnel is chillin. Jimmy Kimmel kicks in the door. Oh look, the cat is back. Meow. To what do I owe the pleasure. You remember that cup of sugar you borrowed? …okay? I need it back. I see. —and my blender. Rosie o donnel takes a deep breath and then sighs. The cup of sugar I can help you with… the blender, I still need. Fair. Follow me. Rosie and Jimmy exit the room, the glimmer of the television still flickering on the green postered armchair with the remote control atop the armrest m; the actual cat (we presume) climbs up into the chair and appears to begin watching the TV? What's on the TV? Why, it's the very orogramme we're all currently tuned into. This just got meta. Again. The cat, looking bored, changes the channel to Garfield. Much better. He looks satisfied now, but is entirely still 199% just a cat. We presume. Your body ponders My eye wander to you're belt buckle My mind watches. Sorry. Your body calls me. My love hurts. I want you. My thought sparkles with the thought of a touch I'm not hungry, I just want you I desire to hold hands and then Dive off I thought you up to love you The time was wrong So now I watch That's all A long rush to nothing Dogtown, Godland. Longboards, longhairs, all body No shine, bro Hard wax, yellow soldier Wavestirm? Epoxy? North shore surf boards Surf harder Fuck New York I wanna go home Panoramic Hollywood golden Who lost apartheid Who first of all Chosen sources First mate Overboard Long hair Wrong rowboat Oh lover Lord of all I almost forgot it was Saturday, Saturday Night I was too busy not working I'm all yours for Passover I'm all ears, And now I get a sense that this Is my last and greatest trick; Disappearing for this, And again forever This is going to take Forever All wrong: You work for the network Interesting choice of wardrobe– another old code magician Ring on opposite finger– The other, I'm so much aware of The ice cream in tubs on the road Not melted, but partially hardened I can also feign confusion You don't say, You don't say, now. Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} [The Identity Crisis] The identity crisis, A loose knit muse, A fog of confusion At most, let with offline regaining of conciousness. No more monsters? All blondes are. Let them have you No grapple promotions (I know I can't afford you) New friends for relevance Prototypes of your tools Forward all immortals I'll see you when your shows stop Freckled glances Eyes reflecting light How strong I am Demolish monsters Social structure, constructs Not fair, are I? Nor earned, Only fair skinned Access Access Access denied. Crookshanks, old boy! The man turns around almost as if he doesn't want to, but obliges the other man, as he comes running towards him. My Goodness, you stink. Why of course! I'm a dog! [The Festival Project ™] The Complex Collective © | COPYRIGHT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED -Ū. {Reposts}
I have eyes in the back of my head I have goats at the top of my bed I have goats on the cap of my knee I think I wrote my own obituary Oh, you hetcha Bitch, you ain't me Shit be poppin off at the rock in 8 minutes exactly In studio 8H That's where I am, Amen again Cause I meant it And I mix in the pancake batter Perhaps some berries? Apparently not, 7 minutes and counting I'm at the Rock Now I'm putting away my don't ask, don't tell Ok. Okay? Okay? Now I'm making arrangements; Don't want to be your favorite, I just miss LA with a hankering Call Hank team USA That's FBI I'm so Walter White that I watch Saturday Night — not live, though I'm too broke for peacock, YouTube And cable! Dang, bro! How many subscriptions do I need Just not to dry myself to sleep. Send me some pictures January jonesing for a free ride scholarship To on God university, Aka: inside the TV DOBT BE EVIL. WRITE ME A SEQUEL! Ok tv people First just let me … son of a bitch! I told you she'd be back. Yo. Whaddup. You killed Jimmy Fallon! I did not. You did! Yes you did. I didn't. He was already like that. What! You heard me! Explain to me how— This man: [This man] *heavy gasps and anxietal wheezing fills the room* Explain this. Metaphisics. That doesn't explain anything. It explains everything, actually. *explodes* Excuse me, miss— do I smell a remix? No, that's pancakes. I got capacity for losers; I'm no longer lonely A broke in horse with no saddle Don't ride me less it's barevack Down and dirty Downhome and in the raw I like to buck And I like it hard A strong gallop and pull, Top speed Why I don't pay for dreams Why I got tv and movie stars in my dreams Why Ariana grande so pretty? Why when we leave outside the crowd still roaring for an e core? Why am I a mogul; Why do I look like a fashion icon? God for it right, I guess but why do I still feel Wildly unsatisfied The lights said I left the water on Turn the lights off Turn the water on I speak color, I am an animal I spoke 9 Gods I am an animal Rise to the occasion I broke the code I threw the rock off the rock k I smoke the fountain I run the block once Come twice Nice shockwave right there Hi God. A beautiful night to die But no time to fall I despaired on desire, Why right on Maine Radio towers Icons Beautiful glimmering city Mayday mayday went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Now rinse thoroughly Alright, alright. So hawked it. You hawked my father's antique stopwatch?! Sorry. Sorry?! AAAAGG— [The Festival Project ™{ Mayday mayday Went heywire They need more scriptwriters I want an empire I wrote half of the Super Bowl commercials Mayday mayday Oh man. Oh, fuck. You had better wash your hands before you touch my crotch. I don't. Give me—- my— body back. Nope. AUghhhh. My inspiration is dead in the water Can't watch hot ones That guy ruined it Ruined September And ruined October Ruined the cosmos And ruined my song, bro— I'm ruined. My inspiration is dead in the water I am a trash can, Man, this is awkward I won an award for songs post mortem Then I wrote more of them This is the afterlife I'm an immortal. My inspiration is dead in the water I'm just not moved man I need a baseball cap and some phantoms A laxatives Maybe some large hands A ball glove Some box seats Smoked sausage And the dodgers. I wanna go home and not be homeless. I want a condo above four stories. I want the whole world on top of its axis I want the other half of the balance My whole life been whack, Where's the reverse card? Run the tarot— Pull the rewards back, Don't touch the foreskin, Call back the foreman Redact that! Redact that! We're starting to crossfires. We met at the crossroads; One goes down, one goes up. Oh, the Irish are back, look: That's good— I got bored. {enter The multiverse} We were at blue suits and sweater vests And now I know better than To count on comics designed to be weather men Of pop culture— current events a spin on the news l went there for clarity, And left there confused. Confused. If the transmitter is at the World Trade Center, Then why is it every time I to go Rockefeller Center, I feel like I've just been electrocuted? Not enough to die, but like I'm buzzing all over and out of my body? Remarkably, and no matter what — Whenever I'm there, I just feel weird. Like, mad weird. Hey. What. Did you see a guy? I'm a guy. Really? Apparently. Well, I'm looking for this guy. I did see a guy like that. Really? Yeah. He was weird. Which way did he go? Uh. [Sunni BLU points up] Really? He went upstairs? Sure! Huh. Thanks. Whatever. I need you to need me I need me to be cool I need you to want me To love me To free me To love me To hold you I know you I know you I know. Knockout with a scarred lip Knockout was a good guy Knockout got knocked up Knockout had a good try Knockout got knocked out Knockout had a good cry Knockout got locked up Goodbye. Good luck. Here's a chalice. 09. Don't waste time. But I'm tired I'm shadow boxing my mind I'm lights out Candles lit I, I, I I, me, mine And God But I won't waste time I'm still dried out I got my eyes lost Wrapped around you In hindsight I'm behind Blind to the power I love my readheads and range rovers I lost my mind on mullholland Pull over and vomit And suddenly I'm at the Portal Plummet Plaza. [The Festival Project ™ ] The rock and the kite VI Rosie o donnel is chillin. Jimmy Kimmel kicks in the door. Oh look, the cat is back. Meow. To what do I owe the pleasure. You remember that cup of sugar you borrowed? …okay? I need it back. I see. —and my blender. Rosie o donnel takes a deep breath and then sighs. The cup of sugar I can help you with… the blender, I still need. Fair. Follow me. Rosie and Jimmy exit the room, the glimmer of the television still flickering on the green postered armchair with the remote control atop the armrest m; the actual cat (we presume) climbs up into the chair and appears to begin watching the TV? What's on the TV? Why, it's the very orogramme we're all currently tuned into. This just got meta. Again. The cat, looking bored, changes the channel to Garfield. Much better. He looks satisfied now, but is entirely still 199% just a cat. We presume. Your body ponders My eye wander to you're belt buckle My mind watches. Sorry. Your body calls me. My love hurts. I want you. My thought sparkles with the thought of a touch I'm not hungry, I just want you I desire to hold hands and then Dive off I thought you up to love you The time was wrong So now I watch That's all A long rush to nothing Dogtown, Godland. Longboards, longhairs, all body No shine, bro Hard wax, yellow soldier Wavestirm? Epoxy? North shore surf boards Surf harder Fuck New York I wanna go home Panoramic Hollywood golden Who lost apartheid Who first of all Chosen sources First mate Overboard Long hair Wrong rowboat Oh lover Lord of all I almost forgot it was Saturday, Saturday Night I was too busy not working I'm all yours for Passover I'm all ears, And now I get a sense that this Is my last and greatest trick; Disappearing for this, And again forever This is going to take Forever All wrong: You work for the network Interesting choice of wardrobe– another old code magician Ring on opposite finger– The other, I'm so much aware of The ice cream in tubs on the road Not melted, but partially hardened I can also feign confusion You don't say, You don't say, now. Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} [The Identity Crisis] The identity crisis, A loose knit muse, A fog of confusion At most, let with offline regaining of conciousness. No more monsters? All blondes are. Let them have you No grapple promotions (I know I can't afford you) New friends for relevance Prototypes of your tools Forward all immortals I'll see you when your shows stop Freckled glances Eyes reflecting light How strong I am Demolish monsters Social structure, constructs Not fair, are I? Nor earned, Only fair skinned Access Access Access denied. Crookshanks, old boy! The man turns around almost as if he doesn't want to, but obliges the other man, as he comes running towards him. My Goodness, you stink. Why of course! I'm a dog! [The Festival Project ™] The Complex Collective © | COPYRIGHT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED -Ū. {Reposts}
Https://www.iamu.guru “THE FLUFFER” I have eyes in the back of my head I have goats at the top of my bed I have goats on the cap of my knee I think I wrote my own obituary Oh, you hetcha Bitch, you ain't me Shit be poppin off at the rock in 8 minutes exactly In studio 8H That's where I am, Amen again Cause I meant it And I mix in the pancake batter Perhaps some berries? Apparently not, 7 minutes and counting I'm at the Rock Now I'm putting away my don't ask, don't tell Ok. Okay? Okay? Now I'm making arrangements; Don't want to be your favorite, I just miss LA with a hankering Call Hank team USA That's FBI I'm so Walter White that I watch Saturday Night — not live, though I'm too broke for peacock, YouTube And cable! Dang, bro! How many subscriptions do I need Just not to cry myself to sleep. Send me some pictures January jonesing for a free ride scholarship To on God university, Aka: inside the TV DOBT BE EVIL. WRITE ME A SEQUEL! Ok TV people First just let me … son of a bitch! I told you she'd be back. Yo. Whaddup. You killed Jimmy Fallon! I did not. You did! Yes you did. I didn't. He was already like that. What! You heard me! Explain to me how— This man: [This man] *heavy gasps and anxietal wheezing fills the room* Explain this. Metaphisics. That doesn't explain anything. It explains everything, actually. *explodes* Excuse me, miss— do I smell a remix? No, that's pancakes. I got zero capacity for losers; I'm no longer lonely A broke in horse with no saddle Don't ride me less it's bareback Down and dirty Downhome and in the raw I like to buck And I like it hard A strong gallop and pull, Top speed Why I don't pay for dreams Why I got TV and movie stars in my dreams Why Ariana Grande so pretty? Why when we leave outside the crowd still roaring for an eNcore? Why am I a mogul; Why do I look like a fashion icon? God got it right, I guess but why do I still feel Wildly unsatisfied The lights said I left the water on Turn the lights off Turn the water on I speak color, I am an animal I spoke 9 Gods I am an animal Rise to the occasion I broke the code I threw the rock off the rock I smoke the fountain I run the block once Come twice Nice shockwave right there Hi God. A beautiful night to die But no time to fall I despaired on desire, Why right on Maine Radio towers Icons Beautiful glimmering city Mayday mayday went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Now rinse thoroughly Alright, alright. So hawked it. You hawked my father's antique stopwatch?! Sorry. Sorry?! AAAAGG— [The Festival Project ™] Mayday mayday Went heywire They need more scriptwriters I want an empire I wrote half of the Super Bowl commercials Mayday mayday Oh man. Oh, fuck. You had better wash your hands before you touch my crotch. I don't. Give me—- my— body back. Nope. AUghhhh. My inspiration is dead in the water Can't watch hot ones That guy ruined it Ruined September And ruined October Ruined the cosmos And ruined my song, bro— I'm ruined. My inspiration is dead in the water I am a trash can, Man, this is awkward I won an award for songs post mortem Then I wrote more of them This is the afterlife I'm an immortal. My inspiration is dead in the water I'm just not moved, man I need a baseball cap and some phantoms A laxative Maybe some large hands A ball glove Some box seats Smoked sausage And the dodgers. I wanna go home and not be homeless. I want a condo above four stories. I want the whole world on top of its axis I want the other half of the balance My whole life been whack, Where's the reverse card? Run the tarot— Pull the rewards back, Don't touch the foreskin, Call back the foreman Redact that! Redact that! We're starting to cross fires. We met at the crossroads; One goes down, one goes up. Oh, the Irish are back, look: That's good— I got bored. {Enter The multiverse} We were at blue suits and sweater vests And now I know better than To count on comics designed to be weather men Of pop culture— current events a spin on the news l went there for clarity, And left there confused. Confused. If the transmitter is at the World Trade Center, Then why is it every time I to go Rockefeller, I feel like I've just been electrocuted? Not enough to die, but like I'm buzzing all over and out of my body? Remarkably, and no matter what — Whenever I'm there, I just feel weird. Like, mad weird. Hey. What. Did you see a guy? I'm a guy. Really? Apparently. Well, I'm looking for this guy. I did see a guy like that. Really? Yeah. He was weird. Which way did he go? Uh. [Sunni BLU points up] Really? He went upstairs? Sure! Huh. Thanks. Whatever. I need you to need me I need me to be cool I need you to want me To love me To free me To love me To hold you I know you I know you I know. Knockout with a scarred lip Knockout was a good guy Knockout got knocked up Knockout had a good try Knockout got knocked out Knockout had a good cry Knockout got locked up Goodbye. Good luck. Here's a chalice. [09. Don't waste time.] But I'm tired I'm shadow boxing my mind I'm lights out Candles lit I, I, I I, me, mine And God But I won't waste time I'm still dried out I got my eyes lost Wrapped around you In hindsight I'm behind Blind to the power I love my readheads and range rovers I lost my mind on Mulholland Pull over and vomit And suddenly I'm at the— Portal Plummet Plaza. [The Festival Project ™ ] The rock and the kite VI Ahem. “The Rock and The Kite VI” ROSIE O'DONNEL is chillin. JIMMY KIMMEL kicks in the door. ROSIE Oh look, the cat is back. BIG JIMMY Meow. ROSIE To what do I owe the pleasure. BIG JIMMY You remember that cup of sugar you borrowed? ROSIE …okay? BIG JIMMY I need it back. ROSIE [beat] I see. BIG JIMMY —and my blender. ROSIE O DONNEL takes a deep breath and then sighs. ROSIE The cup of sugar I can help you with… the blender, I still need. BIG JIMMY [KIMMEL] Fair. ROSIE Follow me. ROSIE AND JIMMY exit the room, the glimmer of the television still flickering on the green upholstered armchair with the remote control atop the armrest; the actual CAT (we presume) climbs up into the chair and appears to begin watching the TV? What's on the TV? Why, it's the very programme we're all currently tuned into. This just got meta. Again. The CAR, looking bored, changes the channel to Garfield. Much better. He looks satisfied now, but is entirely still 199% just a cat. We presume. Your body ponders My eye wander to your belt buckle My mind watches. Sorry. Your body calls me. My love hurts. I want you. My thought sparkles with the thought of a touch I'm not hungry, I just want you I desire to hold hands and then Dive off I thought you up to love you The time was wrong So now I watch That's all A long rush to nothing. Dogtown, Godland. Longboards, longhairs, all body No shine, bro Hard wax, yellow soldier Wavestorm? Epoxy? North shore surf boards Surf harder Fuck New York I wanna go home Panoramic Hollywood golden Who lost apartheid Who first of all Chosen sources First mate Overboard Long hair Wrong rowboat Oh lover Lord of all [The Festival Project ™] I almost forgot it was Saturday, Saturday Night I was too busy not working I'm all yours for Passover I'm all ears, And now I get a sense that this Is my last and greatest trick; Disappearing for this, And again forever This is going to take Forever All wrong: You work for the network Interesting choice of wardrobe– another old code magician Ring on opposite finger– The other, I'm so much aware of The ice cream in tubs on the road Not melted, but partially hardened I can also feign confusion You don't say, You don't say, now. {Enter The Multiverse} Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place Oh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesn't take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! JOHNNY CARSON is wearing the usual getup and a pair of very dark sunglasses. What happened? Whats the- 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember This monologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was— Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omelettes 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE Tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his DeLorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted here the flower does grow the flame The flaming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– red with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet— I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. CO-OH-NO-NAN You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily available What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he converses with his associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.
Https://www.iamu.guru “THE FLUFFER” I have eyes in the back of my head I have goats at the top of my bed I have goats on the cap of my knee I think I wrote my own obituary Oh, you hetcha Bitch, you ain't me Shit be poppin off at the rock in 8 minutes exactly In studio 8H That's where I am, Amen again Cause I meant it And I mix in the pancake batter Perhaps some berries? Apparently not, 7 minutes and counting I'm at the Rock Now I'm putting away my don't ask, don't tell Ok. Okay? Okay? Now I'm making arrangements; Don't want to be your favorite, I just miss LA with a hankering Call Hank team USA That's FBI I'm so Walter White that I watch Saturday Night — not live, though I'm too broke for peacock, YouTube And cable! Dang, bro! How many subscriptions do I need Just not to cry myself to sleep. Send me some pictures January jonesing for a free ride scholarship To on God university, Aka: inside the TV DOBT BE EVIL. WRITE ME A SEQUEL! Ok TV people First just let me … son of a bitch! I told you she'd be back. Yo. Whaddup. You killed Jimmy Fallon! I did not. You did! Yes you did. I didn't. He was already like that. What! You heard me! Explain to me how— This man: [This man] *heavy gasps and anxietal wheezing fills the room* Explain this. Metaphisics. That doesn't explain anything. It explains everything, actually. *explodes* Excuse me, miss— do I smell a remix? No, that's pancakes. I got zero capacity for losers; I'm no longer lonely A broke in horse with no saddle Don't ride me less it's bareback Down and dirty Downhome and in the raw I like to buck And I like it hard A strong gallop and pull, Top speed Why I don't pay for dreams Why I got TV and movie stars in my dreams Why Ariana Grande so pretty? Why when we leave outside the crowd still roaring for an eNcore? Why am I a mogul; Why do I look like a fashion icon? God got it right, I guess but why do I still feel Wildly unsatisfied The lights said I left the water on Turn the lights off Turn the water on I speak color, I am an animal I spoke 9 Gods I am an animal Rise to the occasion I broke the code I threw the rock off the rock I smoke the fountain I run the block once Come twice Nice shockwave right there Hi God. A beautiful night to die But no time to fall I despaired on desire, Why right on Maine Radio towers Icons Beautiful glimmering city Mayday mayday went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Now rinse thoroughly Alright, alright. So hawked it. You hawked my father's antique stopwatch?! Sorry. Sorry?! AAAAGG— [The Festival Project ™] Mayday mayday Went heywire They need more scriptwriters I want an empire I wrote half of the Super Bowl commercials Mayday mayday Oh man. Oh, fuck. You had better wash your hands before you touch my crotch. I don't. Give me—- my— body back. Nope. AUghhhh. My inspiration is dead in the water Can't watch hot ones That guy ruined it Ruined September And ruined October Ruined the cosmos And ruined my song, bro— I'm ruined. My inspiration is dead in the water I am a trash can, Man, this is awkward I won an award for songs post mortem Then I wrote more of them This is the afterlife I'm an immortal. My inspiration is dead in the water I'm just not moved, man I need a baseball cap and some phantoms A laxative Maybe some large hands A ball glove Some box seats Smoked sausage And the dodgers. I wanna go home and not be homeless. I want a condo above four stories. I want the whole world on top of its axis I want the other half of the balance My whole life been whack, Where's the reverse card? Run the tarot— Pull the rewards back, Don't touch the foreskin, Call back the foreman Redact that! Redact that! We're starting to cross fires. We met at the crossroads; One goes down, one goes up. Oh, the Irish are back, look: That's good— I got bored. {Enter The multiverse} We were at blue suits and sweater vests And now I know better than To count on comics designed to be weather men Of pop culture— current events a spin on the news l went there for clarity, And left there confused. Confused. If the transmitter is at the World Trade Center, Then why is it every time I to go Rockefeller, I feel like I've just been electrocuted? Not enough to die, but like I'm buzzing all over and out of my body? Remarkably, and no matter what — Whenever I'm there, I just feel weird. Like, mad weird. Hey. What. Did you see a guy? I'm a guy. Really? Apparently. Well, I'm looking for this guy. I did see a guy like that. Really? Yeah. He was weird. Which way did he go? Uh. [Sunni BLU points up] Really? He went upstairs? Sure! Huh. Thanks. Whatever. I need you to need me I need me to be cool I need you to want me To love me To free me To love me To hold you I know you I know you I know. Knockout with a scarred lip Knockout was a good guy Knockout got knocked up Knockout had a good try Knockout got knocked out Knockout had a good cry Knockout got locked up Goodbye. Good luck. Here's a chalice. [09. Don't waste time.] But I'm tired I'm shadow boxing my mind I'm lights out Candles lit I, I, I I, me, mine And God But I won't waste time I'm still dried out I got my eyes lost Wrapped around you In hindsight I'm behind Blind to the power I love my readheads and range rovers I lost my mind on Mulholland Pull over and vomit And suddenly I'm at the— Portal Plummet Plaza. [The Festival Project ™ ] The rock and the kite VI Ahem. “The Rock and The Kite VI” ROSIE O'DONNEL is chillin. JIMMY KIMMEL kicks in the door. ROSIE Oh look, the cat is back. BIG JIMMY Meow. ROSIE To what do I owe the pleasure. BIG JIMMY You remember that cup of sugar you borrowed? ROSIE …okay? BIG JIMMY I need it back. ROSIE [beat] I see. BIG JIMMY —and my blender. ROSIE O DONNEL takes a deep breath and then sighs. ROSIE The cup of sugar I can help you with… the blender, I still need. BIG JIMMY [KIMMEL] Fair. ROSIE Follow me. ROSIE AND JIMMY exit the room, the glimmer of the television still flickering on the green upholstered armchair with the remote control atop the armrest; the actual CAT (we presume) climbs up into the chair and appears to begin watching the TV? What's on the TV? Why, it's the very programme we're all currently tuned into. This just got meta. Again. The CAR, looking bored, changes the channel to Garfield. Much better. He looks satisfied now, but is entirely still 199% just a cat. We presume. Your body ponders My eye wander to your belt buckle My mind watches. Sorry. Your body calls me. My love hurts. I want you. My thought sparkles with the thought of a touch I'm not hungry, I just want you I desire to hold hands and then Dive off I thought you up to love you The time was wrong So now I watch That's all A long rush to nothing. Dogtown, Godland. Longboards, longhairs, all body No shine, bro Hard wax, yellow soldier Wavestorm? Epoxy? North shore surf boards Surf harder Fuck New York I wanna go home Panoramic Hollywood golden Who lost apartheid Who first of all Chosen sources First mate Overboard Long hair Wrong rowboat Oh lover Lord of all [The Festival Project ™] I almost forgot it was Saturday, Saturday Night I was too busy not working I'm all yours for Passover I'm all ears, And now I get a sense that this Is my last and greatest trick; Disappearing for this, And again forever This is going to take Forever All wrong: You work for the network Interesting choice of wardrobe– another old code magician Ring on opposite finger– The other, I'm so much aware of The ice cream in tubs on the road Not melted, but partially hardened I can also feign confusion You don't say, You don't say, now. {Enter The Multiverse} Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place Oh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesn't take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! JOHNNY CARSON is wearing the usual getup and a pair of very dark sunglasses. What happened? Whats the- 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember This monologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was— Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omelettes 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE Tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his DeLorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted here the flower does grow the flame The flaming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– red with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet— I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. CO-OH-NO-NAN You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily available What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he converses with his associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.
Https://www.iamu.guru “THE FLUFFER” I have eyes in the back of my head I have goats at the top of my bed I have goats on the cap of my knee I think I wrote my own obituary Oh, you hetcha Bitch, you ain't me Shit be poppin off at the rock in 8 minutes exactly In studio 8H That's where I am, Amen again Cause I meant it And I mix in the pancake batter Perhaps some berries? Apparently not, 7 minutes and counting I'm at the Rock Now I'm putting away my don't ask, don't tell Ok. Okay? Okay? Now I'm making arrangements; Don't want to be your favorite, I just miss LA with a hankering Call Hank team USA That's FBI I'm so Walter White that I watch Saturday Night — not live, though I'm too broke for peacock, YouTube And cable! Dang, bro! How many subscriptions do I need Just not to cry myself to sleep. Send me some pictures January jonesing for a free ride scholarship To on God university, Aka: inside the TV DOBT BE EVIL. WRITE ME A SEQUEL! Ok TV people First just let me … son of a bitch! I told you she'd be back. Yo. Whaddup. You killed Jimmy Fallon! I did not. You did! Yes you did. I didn't. He was already like that. What! You heard me! Explain to me how— This man: [This man] *heavy gasps and anxietal wheezing fills the room* Explain this. Metaphisics. That doesn't explain anything. It explains everything, actually. *explodes* Excuse me, miss— do I smell a remix? No, that's pancakes. I got zero capacity for losers; I'm no longer lonely A broke in horse with no saddle Don't ride me less it's bareback Down and dirty Downhome and in the raw I like to buck And I like it hard A strong gallop and pull, Top speed Why I don't pay for dreams Why I got TV and movie stars in my dreams Why Ariana Grande so pretty? Why when we leave outside the crowd still roaring for an eNcore? Why am I a mogul; Why do I look like a fashion icon? God got it right, I guess but why do I still feel Wildly unsatisfied The lights said I left the water on Turn the lights off Turn the water on I speak color, I am an animal I spoke 9 Gods I am an animal Rise to the occasion I broke the code I threw the rock off the rock I smoke the fountain I run the block once Come twice Nice shockwave right there Hi God. A beautiful night to die But no time to fall I despaired on desire, Why right on Maine Radio towers Icons Beautiful glimmering city Mayday mayday went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Repeat Mayday mayday Went haywire Now rinse thoroughly Alright, alright. So hawked it. You hawked my father's antique stopwatch?! Sorry. Sorry?! AAAAGG— [The Festival Project ™] Mayday mayday Went heywire They need more scriptwriters I want an empire I wrote half of the Super Bowl commercials Mayday mayday Oh man. Oh, fuck. You had better wash your hands before you touch my crotch. I don't. Give me—- my— body back. Nope. AUghhhh. My inspiration is dead in the water Can't watch hot ones That guy ruined it Ruined September And ruined October Ruined the cosmos And ruined my song, bro— I'm ruined. My inspiration is dead in the water I am a trash can, Man, this is awkward I won an award for songs post mortem Then I wrote more of them This is the afterlife I'm an immortal. My inspiration is dead in the water I'm just not moved, man I need a baseball cap and some phantoms A laxative Maybe some large hands A ball glove Some box seats Smoked sausage And the dodgers. I wanna go home and not be homeless. I want a condo above four stories. I want the whole world on top of its axis I want the other half of the balance My whole life been whack, Where's the reverse card? Run the tarot— Pull the rewards back, Don't touch the foreskin, Call back the foreman Redact that! Redact that! We're starting to cross fires. We met at the crossroads; One goes down, one goes up. Oh, the Irish are back, look: That's good— I got bored. {Enter The multiverse} We were at blue suits and sweater vests And now I know better than To count on comics designed to be weather men Of pop culture— current events a spin on the news l went there for clarity, And left there confused. Confused. If the transmitter is at the World Trade Center, Then why is it every time I to go Rockefeller, I feel like I've just been electrocuted? Not enough to die, but like I'm buzzing all over and out of my body? Remarkably, and no matter what — Whenever I'm there, I just feel weird. Like, mad weird. Hey. What. Did you see a guy? I'm a guy. Really? Apparently. Well, I'm looking for this guy. I did see a guy like that. Really? Yeah. He was weird. Which way did he go? Uh. [Sunni BLU points up] Really? He went upstairs? Sure! Huh. Thanks. Whatever. I need you to need me I need me to be cool I need you to want me To love me To free me To love me To hold you I know you I know you I know. Knockout with a scarred lip Knockout was a good guy Knockout got knocked up Knockout had a good try Knockout got knocked out Knockout had a good cry Knockout got locked up Goodbye. Good luck. Here's a chalice. [09. Don't waste time.] But I'm tired I'm shadow boxing my mind I'm lights out Candles lit I, I, I I, me, mine And God But I won't waste time I'm still dried out I got my eyes lost Wrapped around you In hindsight I'm behind Blind to the power I love my readheads and range rovers I lost my mind on Mulholland Pull over and vomit And suddenly I'm at the— Portal Plummet Plaza. [The Festival Project ™ ] The rock and the kite VI Ahem. “The Rock and The Kite VI” ROSIE O'DONNEL is chillin. JIMMY KIMMEL kicks in the door. ROSIE Oh look, the cat is back. BIG JIMMY Meow. ROSIE To what do I owe the pleasure. BIG JIMMY You remember that cup of sugar you borrowed? ROSIE …okay? BIG JIMMY I need it back. ROSIE [beat] I see. BIG JIMMY —and my blender. ROSIE O DONNEL takes a deep breath and then sighs. ROSIE The cup of sugar I can help you with… the blender, I still need. BIG JIMMY [KIMMEL] Fair. ROSIE Follow me. ROSIE AND JIMMY exit the room, the glimmer of the television still flickering on the green upholstered armchair with the remote control atop the armrest; the actual CAT (we presume) climbs up into the chair and appears to begin watching the TV? What's on the TV? Why, it's the very programme we're all currently tuned into. This just got meta. Again. The CAR, looking bored, changes the channel to Garfield. Much better. He looks satisfied now, but is entirely still 199% just a cat. We presume. Your body ponders My eye wander to your belt buckle My mind watches. Sorry. Your body calls me. My love hurts. I want you. My thought sparkles with the thought of a touch I'm not hungry, I just want you I desire to hold hands and then Dive off I thought you up to love you The time was wrong So now I watch That's all A long rush to nothing. Dogtown, Godland. Longboards, longhairs, all body No shine, bro Hard wax, yellow soldier Wavestorm? Epoxy? North shore surf boards Surf harder Fuck New York I wanna go home Panoramic Hollywood golden Who lost apartheid Who first of all Chosen sources First mate Overboard Long hair Wrong rowboat Oh lover Lord of all [The Festival Project ™] I almost forgot it was Saturday, Saturday Night I was too busy not working I'm all yours for Passover I'm all ears, And now I get a sense that this Is my last and greatest trick; Disappearing for this, And again forever This is going to take Forever All wrong: You work for the network Interesting choice of wardrobe– another old code magician Ring on opposite finger– The other, I'm so much aware of The ice cream in tubs on the road Not melted, but partially hardened I can also feign confusion You don't say, You don't say, now. {Enter The Multiverse} Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place Oh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesn't take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! JOHNNY CARSON is wearing the usual getup and a pair of very dark sunglasses. What happened? Whats the- 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember This monologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was— Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omelettes 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE Tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his DeLorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted here the flower does grow the flame The flaming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– red with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet— I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. CO-OH-NO-NAN You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily available What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he converses with his associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.
Make a donation to Unity Center of NorwalkPrayer for All Seasons and All Reasons - A Prayer for UnknowingRev. Arlene Meyer @ Unity Center of Norwalk CT (4/6/25)on YouTube at http://www.youtube.com/c/UnityCenterNorwalk
In this episode of Together for Good, we explore the transformative practice of Centering Prayer with Ron Rinkle, a former academic and marketing executive who has discovered deep spiritual renewal through this contemplative approach.Ron shares how Centering Prayer speaks to the modern challenges of self-identity, time, and love, offering a countercultural rhythm of stillness in a world driven by noise and productivity. With a unique blend of psychological and sociological insights, he unpacks the ways this practice fosters inner peace, strengthens faith, and deepens our awareness of God's presence.If you've ever felt that traditional prayer methods weren't working for you—or if you're curious about how silence can become a powerful tool for spiritual growth—this conversation is for you.In This Episode:
“I could hear Brigid hammering at the forge—but couldn't reach her.”This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.In this New Moon episode of Creation's Paths, Charlie and Brian invite you into the sacred uncertainty of the Via Negativa—the path of unknowing. As strange energy stirs around us, they explore feelings of anticipation, anger, and divine movement echoing across both mundane and spiritual realms.They reflect on:The collective sense of change felt by spiritual communities online and in-personEntering the Cloud of Unknowing as a spiritual practiceThe spiritual significance of the New Moon and a partial solar eclipseTheir personal journeywork experiences, including distant glimpses of goddesses like Brigid, Sarasvati, and ParvatiA spontaneous goddess oracle card reading that weaves themes of justice, knowledge, and transformationThis episode isn't about having answers—it's about opening doors to new questions. It's a gentle meditation on discernment, ego release, and collective intuition, wrapped in mysticism, storytelling, and hope.Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it.Thank you for Tips / Donations: * https://ko-fi.com/cedorsett * https://patreon.com/cedorsett * https://cash.app/$CreationsPaths* Substack: New to The Seraphic Grove learn more For Educational Resource: https://wisdomscry.com --- A Christopagan Manifesto--- Answer to the Call: A Dream of an Oak ChurchSocial Connections: * BlueSky https://bsky.app/profile/creationspaths.com * Threads https://www.threads.net/@creationspaths * Instagram https://www.instagram.com/creationspaths/#Christopagan #CreationSpirituality #ChristianWitch #Paganism #Esoteric #Magic #Druidry #Mysticism #Spirituality #Occult #WitchCraft #Wicca #IrishPaganism #CelticPaganism #Magick #Polytheism #Enchantment Chapters:00:00 Introduction and Setting the Scene01:15 Meet the Hosts: Charlie and Brian02:38 Exploring the Via Nativa03:47 The Role of Ego and Uncertainty06:21 Interpreting the Energy Around Us09:29 Meditation and Journeying Insights15:07 Card Reading and Symbolism24:16 Concluding Thoughts and Call to Action Get full access to Creation's Paths at www.creationspaths.com/subscribe
We Are The Knight Ep #224: Batman - Unknowing Welcome back to We Are The Knight: The Batman Podcast! This time Phil & Lilith review Detective Comics #758-#760 (July-September 2001) featuring Mad Hatter's takeover of the GCPD and events with Batman and Sasha Bordeaux come to a head. PLUS: reviews of NEW issues Batman: Full Moon #4, Two-Face #4, Poison Ivy #31, Batgirl #5 and Birds of Prey #19. Tune in today and don't forget to review the show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, and anywhere else you can! We Are The Knight's Links → Bluesky https://bsky.app/profile/capesnetwork.bsky.social → Twitter https://twitter.com/TheBatmanPodcst → Instagram https://www.instagram.com/clsidekicks → Facebook https://www.facebook.com/TheBatmanPodcst → YouTube https://www.youtube.com/c/CapesandLunatics ==================
Welcome to another transformative episode of the Daily Living for Christ podcast! Today, we take a deeper look at The Four Consents—a powerful framework for embracing humility, surrender, and divine union with God. These four consents—Life and Creation, Growth and Development, Limitation and Diminishment, and Transformation and Union—offer us a path to living freely in God's love, apart from striving or self-reliance.What does it mean to truly say yes to God? How does humility free us from both pride and despair? Through biblical insights, the wisdom of The Cloud of Unknowing, and Jesus' example of self-emptying (kenosis), we uncover how consenting to God's presence and action in our lives is the very definition of true humility.In this episode, we'll explore:✅ Consent to Life and Creation—Accepting that we are loved and redeemed by grace, not by effort✅ Consent to Growth and Development—Trusting God's work within us rather than striving for self-perfection✅ Consent to Limitation and Diminishment—Releasing control and embracing the freedom of surrender✅ Consent to Transformation and Union with God—Letting go of all that separates us from divine loveJesus said, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:29). The Four Consents reveal that His yoke is light because it is not about our effort, but our surrender.Are you ready to step into a deeper, freer, and more intimate walk with Christ? Download the episode now, and be sure to subscribe so you don't miss more life-changing conversations on spiritual wholeness, transformation, and the journey to union with Christ!"Have Questions, Send us a Message" This podcast is a production of The Center for Biblical Coaching and Leadership. If this episode has been useful or inspiring to you in any way, please share it with someone else. Lastly, please subscribe to the show and write a review.Visit our website, tcbcl.org, to learn more about our mission and vision.
What is the difference between Not Knowing and Unknowing? How might the practice of Unknowing deepen the Mystic's Path? In this episode, we contemplate the wisdom of the North Node and Neptune conjunction in Pisces. Read more about Gene Key 36 here. I currently offer 2025 Clarity Alchemy, a 2-session package designed to help you cut through the internal fog, clarify your desires and intentions for 2025, and connect with your internal compass. Book here.For private mentorship and coaching, apply here.Listen to & purchase my new song Friends on Bandcamp. You can also listen to it on your favorite streaming platforms.Try the incredible breathwork and meditation app Open for 30 days free using this special link. This podcast is hosted, produced, and edited by Jonathan Koe. Theme music is also composed by me! Connect with me through my newsletter, my Instagram @jonathankoeofficial, and my music. For podcast-related inquiries, email me at healingthespiritpodcast@gmail.com.
Awakening Together Presents Being Aware of Awareness Guided Meditations
During this episode a quote from the book, "The Cloud of Unknowing". "When your soul is engaged in contemplation, it doesn't worry or feel doubt. It's totally at peace because it knows exactly what it's supposed to do."
Are you there God? It's me…Why is God hidden? Why is God silent? And why does that matter in light of faith, hope, and love?In this episode, philosopher Deborah Casewell joins Evan Rosa for a discussion of divine hiddenness. Together, they reflect on:Simone Weil's distinction between abdication and abandonmentMartin Luther's theology of the crossThe differences between the epistemic, moral, and existential problems with the hiddenness of GodThe terror, horror, and fear that emerges from the human experience of divine hiddennessThe realities of seeing through a glass darkly and pursuing faith, hope, and loveAnd finally, what it means to live bravely in the tension or contracdition between the hiddenness of God and the faith in God's presence.About Deborah CasewellDeborah Casewell is Associate Professor in Philosophy at the University of Chester. She works in the areas of philosophy and culture, philosophy of religion, and theology & religion, in particular on existentialism and religion, questions of ethics and self-formation in relation to asceticism and the German cultural ideal of Bildung. She has given a number of public talks and published on these topics in a range of settings.Her first book. Eberhard Jüngel and Existence, Being Before the Cross, was published in 2021: it explores the theologian Eberhard Jüngel's philosophical inheritance and how his thought provides a useful paradigm for the relation between philosophy and theology. Her second book, Monotheism and Existentialism, was published in 2022 by Cambridge University Press as a Cambridge Element.She is Co-Director of the AHRC-funded Simone Weil Research Network UK, and previously held a Humboldt Research Fellowship at the University of Bonn. Prior to her appointment in Bonn, she was Lecturer in Philosophy at Liverpool Hope University and a Teaching Fellow at King's College, London. She received her PhD from the University of Edinburgh, my MSt from the University of Oxford, and spent time researching and studying at the University of Tübingen and the Institut Catholique de Paris.Show NotesMother Teresa on God's hiddennessMother Teresa: Come Be My Light, edited by the Rev. Brian KolodiejchukWhat does it mean for God to be hidden?Perceived absenceSimone Weil on God's abdication of the world for the sake of the worldThe presence of God. This should be understood in two ways. As Creator, God is present in everything which exists as soon as it exists. The presence for which God needs the co-operation of the creature is the presence of God, not as Creator but as Spirit. The first presence is the presence of creation. The second is the presence of decreation. (He who created us without our help will not save us without our consent. Saint Augustine.) God could create only by hiding himself. Otherwise there would be nothing but himself. — Simone Weil, in Gravity and Grace, “Decreation”Abdication vs. AbandonmentA longing for God, who is hidden, unknown, unperceived, and mysteriousMartin Luther's theology of the cross“Hidden in the suffering and ignominy of the cross.”“God is powerful but chooses not to be in relation to us.”Human experiences of divine hiddennessThree ways to talk about hiddenness of God epistemic hiddenness: ”if we were to grasp God with our minds, then we'd be denying the power of God.”Making ourselves an idolThe Cloud of Unknowing and “apophatic” or “negative” theology (only saying what God is not) Moral hiddenness of God: “this is what people find very troubling. … a moral terror to it.” Existential hiddenness of God: “where the hiddenness of God makes you feel terrified”Revelation and the story of human encounter or engagement with God“Luther is the authority on the hiddenness of God in the existential and moral sense.”The power of God revealed in terror.“God never becomes comfortable or accommodated into our measure.””We never make God into an object of our reason and comfort.”Terror, horror, and fear: reverence of GodMarilyn McCord Adams, *Christ & Horrors—*meaning-destroying events“That which is hidden terrifies us.”Martin Luther: “God is terrifying, because God does save some of us, and God does damn some of us.”The “alien work of God”“Is Luther right in saying that God has to remain hidden, and the way in which God has to remain hidden has to be terrifying? So there has to be this kind of background of the terrifying God in all of our relations with the God of love that is the God of grace that, that saves us.”Preserving the mystery of GodWe're unable to commodify or trivialize God.Francis Schaeffer's He Is There and He Is Not Silent“Luther construes it as a good thing.”Suffering, anxiety, despair, meaninglessnessHumanity's encounter with nothingness—the void“Interest in the demonic, or terror, as a preliminary step into a full religious or a proper religious experience of God.”Longing for God in the BibleNoah, Moses, David“The other side of divine hiddenness is human loneliness.”Loneliness and despair as “what your life is going to be like without God.” (Barton Newell)Tension in the experience of faith1 Corinthians 13:12: ”Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know even as I also am known.”Faith, hope, and love abides in the face of epistemic, moral, and existential hiddenness of God.The meaning of struggling with the hiddenness of God for the human pursuit of faith, hope, and love“Let tensions be.””But you've always got to keep the reality of faith, hope, and love, keep hold of the fact that that is a reality, and that can and will be a reality. It's, it's, not to try and justify it, not to try and harmonize it, but just to hold it, I suppose. And hold it even in its contradiction.”Production NotesThis podcast featured Deborah CasewellEdited and Produced by Evan RosaHosted by Evan RosaProduction Assistance by Emily Brookfield, Alexa Rollow, & Zoë HalabanA Production of the Yale Center for Faith & Culture at Yale Divinity School https://faith.yale.edu/aboutSupport For the Life of the World podcast by giving to the Yale Center for Faith & Culture: https://faith.yale.edu/give
You know how much I love to have amazing, creative and innovative guests on the show and my guest today is amazing in this. Her name is Kayla Subica, she a writer, actress, creator of the musical Happy Medium, a medium and a Tarot Reading! Who says you can't be all you want to be? Kayla' story is truly amazing and it simply shows that we are all born with special gifts, and it's by following our intuition that those gifts can help us find ourselves and live life expressing our true potential, with joy, harmony, love and, in this case, having fun helping others. She shares her early experiences with tarot and mediumship, including a transformative palm reading at 16 and her father's skepticism due to past manipulative mediums. She describes her business, Uplifting Tarot, which focuses on positive readings, and her mediumship practice, which involves improvised readings and audience engagement. Kayla encourages others to embrace their unique paths and not let fear of judgment hinder their growth. Ready to be uplifted??! In this episode we talk about: Kayla shares that she took spirituality very seriously as a child, feeling a strong connection to a source and enjoying the feeling of shutting out the world during prayers. She recounts her family's skepticism and fear around spirituality, particularly due to her Portuguese heritage and her father's past experiences with manipulative mediums. The first palm reading at 16 left a deep impression on her, resonating with her on a profound level and making her feel seen and understood by a stranger. Kayla discusses her father's strong reaction to her interest in tarot and mediumship, which she attributes to his past experiences with manipulative mediums. Kayla emphasizes the importance of having personal experiences with spirituality to truly understand and believe in it, rather than relying on external validation. She describes the creation of Uplifting Tarot, which focuses on reading tarot in a positive and supportive way, highlighting the medicine and lessons in each card. Kayla shares her approach to mediumship, which involves allowing herself to be open and sharing whatever comes up during sessions, even if it seems outlandish. Kayla recounts her first mediumship session, which was initiated by a spontaneous encounter with her father's face during a workout. She describes the process of taking a mediumship class and practicing with strangers to build her confidence and skills. Kayla talks about the importance of being the unknowing fool and trusting that the process will work out, even if it seems uncertain. She shares her experiences with skepticism and judgment from others, and how she has learned to let go of these fears and embrace her unique path. Kayla highlights the importance of self-acceptance and not seeking external validation, which has allowed her to grow and thrive in her spiritual and creative pursuits. Kayla explains that "Happy Medium" is a play she created that combines her skills as a singer, actor, and medium, allowing her to perform live readings for the audience. The show includes elements of improvisation and audience participation, creating a fun and interactive experience. If you are ready to connect with your passed loved one or simply have a better understanding of the energies of the moment in your life, Kayla is your person! CONNECT WITH KAYLA www.kaylasubica.com www.instagram.com/kaylasubica CONNECT WITH ME https://www.theintuitionqueen.com/ IG: https://www.instagram.com/the_intuition_queen/ WATCH ON YOU TUBE: https://www.youtube.com/@maramarchesi-theintuitionq3852 LEAVE A REVIEW: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/intuitive-queens-podcast/id1477108959
Fairy tales, they're not just for kids you know, suggests Tadhg O'Sullivan in his latest Cloud of Unknowing.
Sermon One (in Walshe, Complete Mystical Works) has become known as capturing the essence of Meister Eckhart's thought. “Here, in time, we are celebrating the eternal birth which God the Father bore and bears unceasingly in eternity, because this same birth is now born in time, in human nature.” And why does this lofty thought matter? “What does it avail me that this birth is happening, if it does not happen in me? That it should happen in me is what matters.”Eckhart, therefore, offers a corrective to the way Christianity and indeed Christmas is usually articulated today. Where does this birth take place? Not in Bethlehem, not in a stable, not around 4BC, not even from Mary, but primarily “in the very purest, loftiest, subtlest part that the soul is capable of”.Only, is this itself not only too rarefied a form of Christianity, but one inadequate to our times, in denial of moral imperatives or simply a gospel of spiritual bypassing?In fact, precisely the opposite is the case. Without that birth of the Word in the soul, Christianity's moral meaning is lost, its injunctions become pathways to demoralisation, with the happiness promised transitory or elusive.Eckhart, therefore, has crucial things to say to a church dedicated to filling people up with experiences and demands, as well as a time keen on practices that miss the stillness and silence he argues is fundamental.Rather, alongside the author of The Cloud of Unknowing and Mother Julian, Eckhart preaches the direct and easy path, that depends not on our efforts but on a capacity to not know and stay before the ground from which the Word is born.Unity with God is the purpose and promise of life - the secret that I feel is regularly absent in presentations of Christianity, though so much sought and needed.
A listener calls in to discuss being an unknowing Other Woman. Her cheater had three other families, as it turns out, including her child. She asks for understanding for those in complicated family situations. Children of cheaters are victims too.
Money matters 10 UNKNOWING ACCOMPLICE
Unknowing author
Tadhg O'Sullivan's latest journey into the cloud attempts to follow the elusive author of The Treasure of The Sierra Madre, B. Traven.
The resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury has highlighted the horrendous nature of abuse in the church and also the church's difficulties in dealing with these individuals. But is focusing on individuals enough or trying to address these matters through safeguarding and moral injunctions?Those elements are no doubt necessary. But I think also not sufficient. Recent events have reminded me of the extreme naivety around sex that exists in conservative Evangelical circles. And no doubt in other contexts as well.That can conceal deviant behaviour but is also a failure to understanding the nature of gospel, in my view.In these thoughts, I explore how in mystical Christian traditions, as well as those with an interest in inner life and the path to God, the erotic is understood as a key mode of awakening and energy. For if sex is about wanting to have and be had by another, that is but a reflection of the yearning to be one with God, the true promise of the gospel: “oneing” with the divine, as Mother Julian and the author of the Cloud of Unknowing put it.I turn to the insights of Plato, Origen, Dante and William Blake to draw out these themes. And also consider the parables of Jesus and his encounters with various individuals in the gospels as expressions of this deeper yearning, which he seems to have released in them and which might be foster in us, too - with discernment, honesty and wisdom.0:00 My experience of Christian evangelical camps2:50 Sex as a symptom of erotic desire for God6:05 Plato's insights about the body and why that is discarded11:09 Origen on God's kisses14:09 The mystics understanding of “Onening”15:05 Dante's transformation of his desire for Beatrice17:05 Blake on the erotic discovery that all things are holy21:05 The erotic in the gospels and the notion of philia21:40 Jesus's encounters and his parables as desire for God29:26 The abuse crises call for a lost Christianity
This is a talk given by Jogen Sensei at Heart of WIsdom Zen Temple on November 6th. In this talk Jogen Sensei reads a practice spell he wrote and talks with the Sangha about their experience post election results. ★ Support this podcast ★
St. Teresa of Ávila (1515-1582) was a sixteenth-century Spanish nun and one of the most influential mystics in all of Church history, writing two spiritual classics still read today: The Way of Perfection and The Interior Castle. Her autobiography (more accurately, a confession to Spanish Inquisitors) is The Life of St. Teresa of Avila, detailing her spiritual experiences of the love of God.In this episode, Evan Rosa welcomes Carlos Eire (T. Lawrason Riggs Professor of History and Religious Studies at Yale University) for a discussion of how to read St. Teresa of Ávila, exploring the historical, cultural, philosophical, and theological aspects of her life and writing, and offering insights and close readings of several selections from her classic confession-slash-autobiography, known as La Vida, or The Life.About Carlos EireCarlos Eire is T. Lawrason Riggs Professor of History and Religious Studies at Yale University. All of his books are banned in Cuba, where he has been proclaimed an enemy of the state. He was awarded the 2024 Harwood F. Byrnes/Richard B. Sewall Teaching Prize by Yale College, received his PhD from Yale in 1979. He specializes in the social, intellectual, religious, and cultural history of late medieval and early modern Europe, with a focus on both the Protestant and Catholic Reformations; the history of popular piety; the history of the supernatural, and the history of death. Before joining the Yale faculty in 1996, he taught at St. John's University in Minnesota and the University of Virginia, and was a member of the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton. He is the author of War Against the Idols (1986); From Madrid to Purgatory (1995); A Very Brief History of Eternity (2010); Reformations: The Early Modern World (2016); The Life of Saint Teresa of Ávila: A Biography (2019); and They Flew: A History of the Impossible (2023). He is also co-author of Jews, Christians, Muslims: An Introduction to Monotheistic Religions (1997); and ventured into the twentieth century and the Cuban Revolution in the memoir Waiting for Snow in Havana (2003), which won the National Book Award in Nonfiction in the United States and has been translated into more than a dozen languages. His second memoir, Learning to Die in Miami (2010), explores the exile experience. A past president of the Society for Reformation Research, he is currently researching various topics in the history of the supernatural. His book Reformations won the R.R. Hawkins Prize for Best Book of the Year from the American Publishers Association, as well as the award for Best Book in the Humanities in 2017. It was also awarded the Jaroslav Pelikan Prize by Yale University Press. The Life of Saint Teresa of Ávila by Carlos Eire (https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691164939/the-life-of-saint-teresa-of-avila )The Book of My Life by Teresa of Ávila (https://www.icspublications.org/products/the-collected-works-of-st-teresa-of-avila-vol-1 or https://www.shambhala.com/teresa-of-avila-1518.html )A long confession to the Inquisition which had placed her under investigation and read by those who were curious and believed her mysticism might be a fraudThe Spanish Inquisition in the 16th CenturyAutobiography v. Auto-hagiographyThe chief virtue of sainthood was humilityMedieval mysticism in the asceticism of monastic communitiesThe Reformation's rejection of monastic communities and their practices“You can fast as much as you want, and you can punish yourself as much as you want. That's not going to, uh, make God love you any more than he already does. And it's not going to wipe out your sins. Christ has wiped out your sins. So, all of this, uh, Oh, self obsession and posturing, uh, the very concept of holiness is redefined.”Direct experience of the divine in mysticism: purgation (cleansing), feedback from God (illumination), and union with the divine.On Loving God by Bernard of Clairvaux (https://litpress.org/Products/CF013B/On-Loving-God)Surrendering of the self in order to find oneself, and in turn GodInterior Castle by Teresa of Ávila (https://www.icspublications.org/products/st-teresa-of-avila-the-interior-castle-study-edition)Recogimiento - a prayer in which one lets go of their senses; a form a prayer in which you are just in a chat with a friendThe Cloud of Unknowing by Anonymous (https://paracletepress.com/products/the-cloud-of-unknowing )Meaning that is found without words - recollection and recogimientoFrancisco Jiménez de Cisneros, Archbishop of Toledo - translation of Rhineland mysticism into SpanishStaged approach and a development of spirituality“You're doing some transforming of your own, of course, by, you know, being engaged in this, but it's, it's really a gift from God progress and progress. Uh, progress and progress, or, uh, pretty much like an athlete whose skills become better and better and better. Or any artist whose skills improve and improve and improve and improve.Except in this case, there's someone else involved. You're not just working out or rehearsing. It's the other party involved in, in this, uh, phenomenon of prayer.”The Four Waters as an image for the progression of prayerThe irony of Teresa's writing and her nods to the inquisition found within her writingsThe experience of mysticism and God cannot be understood - it is beyond languageRepetition in prayer and meditationEdith Stein was inspired by Teresa of ÁvilaMonastic life was very isolated and was filled with hard workThe doubt of her confessors that her visions of Jesus were realResponding to the devil with crudenessMystical marriage with ChristThe Life of Catherine of Siena by Raymond of Capua ( https://tanbooks.com/products/books/the-life-of-saint-catherine-of-siena-the-classic-on-her-life-and-accomplishments-as-recorded-by-her-spiritual-director/ )Physical visions and intellectual visionsHer visions were beyond her controlTransverberation - a vision of an angel with a spear that she is struck with; pain and bliss simultaneously in the woundingGod as a very clear diamondTeresa of Ávila and the Rhetoric of Femininity by Alison Weber (https://press.princeton.edu/books/paperback/9780691027449/teresa-of-avila-and-the-rhetoric-of-femininity) - Constant self-humbling of TeresaDevotion to heart imagery in mysticism, Catholicism, and Teresa's spiritualityThey Flew: A History of the Impossible by Carlos Eire (https://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9780300280074/they-flew/)The bodily effects and physical nature of Teresa's mysticismmysticism for the masses and books for the laityMysticism is a double edged sword - this is also what makes Jesus threatening in the gospelsSteven Ozment (Mysticism and Dissent: Religious Ideology and Social Protest in the Sixteenth Century?) https://archive.org/details/mysticismdissent0000ozme/page/n295/mode/2upHuman nature and our potentialGreat detail and charming in her writingProduction NotesThis podcast featured Carlos EireEdited and Produced by Evan RosaHosted by Evan RosaProduction Assistance by Alexa Rollow, Emily Brookfield, Kacie Barrett, & Zoë HalabanA Production of the Yale Center for Faith & Culture at Yale Divinity School https://faith.yale.edu/aboutSupport For the Life of the World podcast by giving to the Yale Center for Faith & Culture: https://faith.yale.edu/give
Have you ever felt pressure to immediately make decisions, have answers and form judgements about people and events? While our culture tends to gravitate towards this type of posture in life, the wisdom of the gospel tells us there are many things that can only be understood after a time of suspended judgment and unsettling unknowing. Join us as we explore a path toward this wisdom of unknowing in a world of certainty.
(Harmony in Relationships) - Practicing in a World of the Unknowing: Relationships with Non-Practitioners Participate in this course in-person or online. Details available at this link. https://www.buddhadailywisdom.com/courses-retreats-in-chiang-mai-thai --------- Practicing in a World of the Unknowing: Relationships with Non-Practitioners Practitioners may encounter challenges of how to practice The Path to Enlightenment while surrounded by individuals who are not practicing these Teachings. This talk will focus on sharing Teachings that guide you in how to practice these Teachings when surrounded by family, friends, and associates who are not practicing these Teachings. ---------- HARMONY IN RELATIONSHIPS - MEDITATION PRACTITIONER COURSE (30-HOURS) Teachings & Discussions (Dhamma Talks) - The Eight Fold Path: The Path for All Humans to Enlightenment - Transforming The Three Poisons: Craving, Anger, and Ignorance - Identifying Cravings: Cultivating Non-Craving and Analysis of The Mind - Cultivating Healthy Mental States: Loving-kindness, Compassion, Sympathetic Joy, and Equanimity - True Love: Love Without Attachment - Practicing in a World of the Unknowing: Relationships with Non-Practitioners - Sharing The Path to Enlightenment: How to Guide Children Along The Path? - Practicing Non-Attachment: How to Eliminate Attachment to Those Who Are Closest to Us? - Developing & Maintaining Relationships: Choosing Wholesome Friends and a Life Partner - The Path to Enlightenment: Practicing “The Path” in the Workplace - The Art of The Friendly "No": How to Say "No" Without Saying "No" Meditation Practice - Meditation Instruction: Breathing Mindfulness Meditation and Loving-kindness Meditation - Meditation Positions: Seated, Lying, Standing, and Walking Position - Buddhist Chanting in Pali (There are no prerequisites for this course.) Learn more https://www.buddhadailywisdom.com/courses-retreats-in-chiang-mai-thai Calendar Events View of Classes, Courses, and Retreats (In-person and Online) https://www.buddhadailywisdom.com/eventscalendar ——-Daily Wisdom - Walking The Path with The BuddhaDedicated to the education of Gotama Buddha's Teachings to attain Enlightenment. https://www.BuddhaDailyWisdom.com (See our website for online learning, courses, and retreats.) Group Learning Program - LIVE Interactive Online Classes, Book, Audiobook, Videos, Podcast and Personal Guidancehttps://bit.ly/GroupLearningProgram |The Words of The Buddha - Pali Canon in English Study Grouphttps://bit.ly/PaliCanonStudyGroup FREE Book - Developing a Life Practice: The Path That Leads to Enlightenmenthttps://www.buddhadailywisdom.com/freebuddhabooks Facebook: https://bit.ly/DailyWisdom-FacebookYouTube: https://bit.ly/DailyWisdom-YoutubePodcast: https://bit.ly/DailyWisdom-Podcast Support our efforts to share The Teachings of Gotama Buddha with you and worldwide for all people using this link.https://www.buddhadailywisdom.com/supportbuddha
ChatGPT has divided opinion on how artificial intelligence might shape our future: Is it a harbinger of our demise? Or a friend, arrived just in time to guide us through our collective unraveling? As we entangle ourselves with this technology, are there ways we can use it to transform our intelligence, rather than simply replicating it? In this week's essay, writer and adaptive leadership trainer Dana Karout pokes fun at the ways ChatGPT mirrors our own limited ways of thinking. Drawing on her work helping communities navigate conflict and complexity, she pushes us to resist regurgitating what we already know in situations that demand new ways of being. As we try to address the existential challenges mounting around the world—ecological, social, spiritual—could ChatGPT's empty spiels help us let go of our certainties? What true creativity, what real responses to our moment of crisis, might emerge from our unknowing? Read the essay. Illustration by Vartika Sharma. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Help Me Pick the Best Podcast Conversation of 2024!The winner of the second quarter was Pete Greig!The first quarter winner was Mattie Jackson-Smith!Here are their two episodes back-to back. Take a listen, and you can choose the finalist from the first half of the year. Whichever episode gets the most downloads in the next week will move on to the finals. At the end of the year, we'll let the two semi-finalist winners battle to become the inaugural Dr. Lee Warren Podcast Award winner! Let's listen to these amazing conversations and then honor our guests for sharing their stories and their wisdom with us.(Remember: when we replay old episodes, the free books have already been given away)Pete Greig has been teaching us to pray for decades.What do you do when God seems far away? How do we learn to hear God? How do we pray when life hurts?These are BIG questions! And Pete's here to help us answer them.Pete's official bio and links:Pete Greig is the Senior Pastor of Emmaus Rd church, and the bewildered founder of 24-7 Prayer, an international, inter-denominational movement of prayer, mission and justice operating in more than 100 countries.Pete's books, which are available in various languages and formats, have won the following awards: + ‘Dirty Glory' - UK Christian Book of the year+ ‘How to Pray' - short-listed for the ECPA Christian Book of the Year® Award, 2021+ ‘How to Hear God' - Best Christian Life Book, 2022, Winner, Resources of the Year, 2023 in the Spiritual Growth category.+ ‘God on Mute' has been described as ‘a Christian classic' by the Archbishop of Canterbury.Pete's free, online resources include The Prayer Course - downloaded more than three million times, The Lectio Course, and Lectio365 - a daily devotional with more than 225,000 regular users.He and his wife Sammy are members of The Order of the Mustard Seed (OMS). They split their time between a barge on the River Wey near Guildford, England, and a cliff top retreat on the Isle of Wight where they host and mentor leaders from around the world. Pete is an Ambassador for the NGO Tearfund, a visiting lecturer for St Mellitus Theological College and one of the founding conveners of the Wildfires festival. Here's is the conversation with Pete Greig. Whoever gets the most downloads in the first week becomes the finalist!(By the way, computer-generated transcripts are terrible at spelling names. There are several versions of Mattie and Pete's names in the transcript for this episode, but the correct spellings are Mattie Jackson-Smith and Pete Greig. AI is NOT going to take over the world, at least until it learns to spell!)Follow me @drleewarren on Instagram to keep up with the tournament as the year progresses!Leave a voicemail with your question or comment!Five Ways You Can Support this show:Pray for us!Subscribe, like, and share it with your friends! (We even have a YouTube channel!)Leave reviews and comments wherever you listen to podcasts!You can become a paid partner of the podcast and get special bonus episodes and lots more content by clicking here. Visit one of our affiliate partners and consider using their products (we use them every day):Improve your gut health, support your immune system, and protect your brain with Pique!Other Helpful Links:Click here to access the Hope Is the First Dose playlist of hopeful, healing songs!Be sure to check out my new book, Hope Is the First Dose!Here's a free 5-day Bible study on YouVersion/BibleApp based on my new book!Sign up for my weekly Self-Brain Surgery Newsletter here!All recent episodes with transcripts are available here! (00:00) - Introduction (00:52) - Choosing the Winner (01:17) - Interview with Pete Gregg (06:57) - Self-Brain Surgery School (07:45) - Emergency Surgery Banter (08:21) - Excitement for Pete Gregg's Interview (14:57) - Pete Gregg's Life and Ministry (28:54) - Unpacking the PRAY Model (30:55) - Finding Peace in Worship (38:38) - Engaging with Scripture and Emotion (51:49) - Training Your Brain for Gratitude (57:57) - Grieving with Hope (59:45) - Waiting in the Unknowing (01:00:00) - Finding Hope in the Midst of Pain
Subscribe, Rate, & Review Future Fossils on YouTube • Spotify • Apple Podcasts✨ About This EpisodeThe world is getting hotter, faster, stranger, and scarier every year. Species disappear each day, life-critical diversity replaced with media, consumer goods, capital, and trash. And yet…what do any of us feel inspired to do about it? Why has humankind thus far failed to wield its religions as an instrument for biospheric action? Reading the above probably generated more distress than motivation. Might Western civilization actually be better off reclaiming what the modern world felt it didn't need — namely, the sacred? What if Christianity has ALWAYS at its core held teachings meant to stir up riotous love — the kind that gets us off our asses striving joyously to serve the living world we are?Endlessly subversive author and Rice University Professor Timothy Morton (Twitter | Substack | Patreon | YouTube | Instagram) thinks so — and their new book Hell: In Search of A Christian Ecology argues eloquently for a weird and wonderful postmodern nondual Christianity in which we give up trying to run the place and realign ourselves with Life. Hell is a rousing and reviving work I underlined extensively, and our discussion traces and retraces Tim's characteristically good-lurid and good-florid, stark-but-dreamy, mystically mundane, paradox-rich writing. We soar into romantic numinosity and dwell in body horrors, throw curtains open to pure light and celebrate the stains we can't erase. Trigger warnings plenty, here — but one of them is that in the high-brow, low-brow oscillations you might find yourself awakened to the nature of your being-as-the-God-shaped-hole-in-everything.I'll let them introduce what is easily one of the most potent episodes this show has ever published:“A wonderful three-dimensional podcast. Like, I can't thank you enough for wanting to go all the way around the mulberry bush and then into the mulberry bush and then outside the mulberry bush, then pulverize the mulberry bush into powder, send it around a particle accelerator, and watch the diffusion cloud chamber patterns as you compose another symphony using fractal geometry. I just love this.”If that's the kind of conversation you enjoy, then buckle up. Tim knows precisely the poetic mind-keys with which we can find The Garden in the flames of Hell itself, and Heaven in the sinful body of the Technocene.Over the next two hours, we round the bases on a Greatest Hits of all my favorite topics, all of which appear in some sublime form in Tim's wonderful new book. An we perform embroidery and exegesis of this anthem to raves and William Blake and AI and facing childhood trauma on the way to saving the biosphere from one of its own most deliciously sinful experiments (namely, civilization), we cover a kaleidoscopic swirl of topics such as:• Making climate action (and America) cool again• Nonduality, convergent evolution, and the sacred as the feeling of biology• When teleology goes bad, then redeems itself through pluralism• Flipped gnosticism and dispensing with master/slave thinking• What deals with the devil teach us about how to wisely wield AI• “The Black Goo” as a science fiction trope and how it relates to…• How to make the best of living in Hell, aka social media• The Peacock Angel Melek Taus and having sympathy for the devil• Failure as comedy, sin as a blessing, thinking as a kind of failure mode• Evolution as a Christic promise of possibility better futures, and yet…• Why we shouldn't use “emergentism” to solve “the meaning crisis”We also pay dues to a totally prodigious list of inspirations.As per our custom, those of you supporting the show have subsidized the extra time it takes for me to organize a thorough bibliography with links to the books, papers, films, TV shows, podcast episodes, and historical figures mentioned therein.Thank you for listening and for your contributions!✨ Support This Work• Become a patron on Substack or Patreon• Buy original paintings and prints or commission new work• Buy the books we discuss from my Bookshop.org reading list• Help me find backing for my next big project Humans On The Loop• Join the conversation on Discord in the Holistic Technology & Wise Innovation and Future Fossils servers• Make one-off donations at @futurefossils on Venmo, $manfredmacx on CashApp, or @michaelgarfield on PayPal• Buy the show's music on Bandcamp — intro “Olympus Mons” from the Martian Arts EP & outro “Sonnet A” from the Double-Edged Sword EP✨ Books & ArticlesHell: In Search of A Christian Ecologyby Timothy MortonHyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology after The End of The Worldby Timothy MortonSubscendenceby Timothy MortonDarwin's Pharmacy: Sex, Plants, and The Evolution of The Noosphereby Richard DoyleA Beginner's Guide To Constructing The Universeby Michael S. SchneiderThe Origin of Species By Means of Natural Selectionby Charles DarwinLiquid Modernityby Zygmunt BaumanHallucination Is Inevitable: An Innate Limitation of Large Language Modelsby Ziwei Xu, Sanjay Jain, Mohan KankanhalliUnweaving The Rainbow: Science, Delusion, and The Appetite for Wonderby Richard DawkinsSimplification, Innateness, and the Absorption of Meaning from Context: How Novelty Arises from Gradual Network Evolutionby Adi LivnatThe Cloud of Unknowing by AnonymousThe Glass Cage: How Our Computers Are Changing Usby Nicholas CarrPresent Shock: When Everything Happens Nowby Doug RushkoffAt Home In The Universe: The Search for The Laws of Self-Organization and Complexityby Stuart KauffmanComplexity and The Emergence of Physical Propertiesby Miguel FuentesThe Return of the Black Madonna: A Sign of Our Times or How the Black Madonna Is Shaking Us Up for the Twenty-First Centuryby Matthew FoxThe Coming of the Cosmic Christ: The Healing of Mother Earth and the Birth of a Global Renaissanceby Matthew FoxReclaiming Art in the Age of Artifice: A Treatise, Critique, and Call to Actionby J.F. Martel✨ Podcast EpisodesSolPurpose Conversations 2 - Richard Doyle on The Cloud of Unknowing75 - David Krakauer on Thinking Interplanetary with The Santa Fe Institute132 - Erik Davis on Perturbations in the Reality Field174 - Evan Snyder on Sound Design for A Robotic Built Wilderness186 - A Manifesto for Weird Science194 - Simon Conway Morris on Convergent Evolution & Creative Mass Extinctions212 - Manfred Laubichler & Geoffrey West on Life In The Anthropocene & Living Inside The TechnosphereWeird Studies 101 - Our Fear of the Dark: On Tanizaki's 'In Praise of Shadows'✨ Movies & TV ShowsAlienWestworldBlade RunnerHellraiserFriendsCurb Your EnthusiasmThe SimpsonsPrometheusThe ShiningAlien ResurrectionInterstellarThe Wizard of Oz✨ Other PeopleWilliam BlakeCarl Hayden Smith Jeffrey KripalKurt GödelGeorg CantorAlfred North WhiteheadBertrand RussellGerald Manley HopkinsKarl MarxSlavoj ŽižekGregory BatesonGeorg Wilhelm Friedrich HegelPhilip K. DickE.F. SchumacherAnna HollandPhoebe PlummerFrancisco VarelaHumberto MaturanaJacques DerridaJohn MiltonJulian of NorwichDilgo Khyentse RinpocheJón GnarrChögyam Trungpa RinpocheMurray Gell-Mann✨ Objects Of NoteQAnonGoogle GlassThe Sex PistolsCambridge Analytica This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit michaelgarfield.substack.com/subscribe
Los Angeles-based artist Adrian Cox's paintings evoke worlds outside of our own, worlds he explore through active imagination and trance. In this episode, Adrian unveils his latest project, the hypnotic Ritual of Unknowing, and chats with Devin about their mutually inspired methods of investigating these inner landscapes. Check out Adrian's art at: https://www.adriancoxart.com/ Download the Ritual of Unknowing for free at: https://www.adriancoxart.com/the-ritual-of-unknowing.html Download the Person is Asleep album for free at: https://www.personisasleep.com/ Join the ritual: www.patreon.com/thispodcastisaritual Follow the Wizard on Instagram @personisawake