Podcasts about Your God

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare or sociopolitical targeting) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by a targeted individual. As it stands, It has become a modern sequel which adequately and astonishingly mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants for financial and political gain. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic tactical violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare or sociopolitical targeting) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by a targeted individual. As it stands, It has become a modern sequel which adequately and astonishingly mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants for financial and political gain. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic tactical violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare or sociopolitical targeting) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by a targeted individual. As it stands, It has become a modern sequel which adequately and astonishingly mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants for financial and political gain. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic tactical violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Manifesting First Fruits (1) (audio) David Eells 11/19/25 Jesus Is Coming in His First-Fruits Teddy Lishan Desta - 06/22/2005 You shall rise up in My Name, you shall stand in My very Glory. In the majesty of the Name of your God, you shall shepherd My flock (Micah 5:4-5). For the sake of My Name, which I have bestowed on you, and for the Divine strength I have put in you, the obedience of the nations shall be yours, and all the nations of the earth shall bring their homage to you. All the nations shall be blessed through you (Genesis 49:10; Psalm 72:11). For your God has anointed and glorified you, you shall be made princes and leaders to the nations; and a people who knew not you, shall follow you (Isaiah 55:4; 32:1). You have eaten from the hidden manna; you have received the white stone. You have passed through the deep waters of afflictions, and you have overcome your trials. Therefore, I have given you access to My presence; I have made you My cherished heritage. You have been made a royal vessel, a chosen seed to carry My Name. Arise now and display the white stone and manifest the Name written on it (Revelation 2:17). Arise and proclaim the hidden manna, I have fed you all these years. What you have heard in secret, now you should proclaim in the public; what you have been told in the ears, now you have to shout it from the rooftops (Matthew 10:27). I have made you the express image of My Son, and the manifestation of His invisible power (Hebrews 1:3; Revelation 3:12). You shall soon leave My hiding place, and you will carry His Name before the nations. And those who do not bow down to this Name, they shall fall and never rise again (Psalm 45: 5-7). This is the day your Lord has chosen to magnify His Holy Name above all names. I have shaped you all these years in the furnace of affliction. You have languished under a heavy burden and endured the rod of My chastisement. I have intended you to be a caring leader, so I have chosen you by fire (Isaiah 49:11). But look, I shall come to you to open your grave and to release you from your dungeon. I shall come to you to shake off your dust and to change your humble state. When I exert My resurrection power on your behalf and raise you from the dead and sit you on a throne in the highest place of this world, then you shall be like one who dreams. I shall place you above all dominion, principalities and powers, and all those who will see this will acknowledge that I have exerted the exceeding power of My strength on your behalf. I have anointed you for My grand purpose. You are the chosen instrument to bring to an end the groaning and sighing of creation (Romans 8:19). You shall gather the little ones in your nurturing arms, and they will thrive under your protective care. The poor and the needy shall get solace under your guidance, and you shall destroy their destroyer and make their Earth to rest in peace. You shall be the spring shower on the dry land. The lives that have been blighted by sin shall be healed and restored. The weak and the oppressed shall have their lives revived under your sight. You shall raise the dead and restore the deceased. You will be made the dew of light, which shall make the earth to sprout her dead back to life. The rubbles of generations you shall rebuild. But you shall burn also like a fire (Malachi 3:1-2). Your blaze shall sweep the world; it shall devour all that causes offense. You shall serve Me as the gatekeepers of My Kingdom lest the uncircumcised of heart enter My Kingdom and defile My Sanctuary. Your all-seeing eyes shall keep out the wicked, the arrogant, and the pervert from My holy city. To understand all these, look what I did in the life of Moses when I took him from the vocation of a shepherd to make him a leader of My people; study what I did for Joseph when I led him out of the recesses of the dark dungeon to sit him next to the king, and discern My mighty deeds how I glorified Mordecai lifting him up from his humble state to make him a viceroy of the Persian Empire. My people, all these are types of your end-time destiny; it shall be so with you in these last days. I have promised that the overcomer shall inherit My Name and sit with Me on My Divine Throne. He shall be My son and I shall be his Father; and He shall rule the nations with the rod of iron (Revelation 2:26-27, 3:21-22). Get ready, your day of visitation hastens to its fulfillment.   Jesus Will Soon Bring Us to the Father  Amos Scaggs vision - 03/01/2006 I was on the side of a mountain with another person who I knew to be one of the sons of the prophets. I was tending a solid white lamb that had an ever-smooth, slick coat of wool. I was holding a white rope that was attached to the lamb's neck while it was grazing. All of a sudden, the lamb started to move around the side of the mountain and then went straight up towards the top. The son of the prophets did not go with me. As I gave the lamb more rope, it started running full speed higher and higher. I was so amazed that I could keep up with the lamb running like that. I never let go of the white rope that was around the lamb's neck. When the lamb broke into a full gallop, it sensed its owner and master. At the top of the mountain was an old white-haired man with a white beard who was slowly descending the mountain to meet the lamb. But it seemed that the old man had not moved more than 5ft from the top of the mountain until the lamb had reached him. The old man caressed the lamb, and I was still holding on to the white rope that was around the lamb's neck. Jesus, the Lamb, through the Holy Spirit, the rope, will very quickly cause us to ascend the mountain of the Kingdom to our Father. I believe this will soon happen. The sons of the prophets failed to receive the anointing that I did. In 2 Kings 2:15-18 the sons of the prophets didn't believe that Elijah had been taken into the presence of God but thought he was still on earth and so were not included in the gathering. They represented those who were trained by the school of the prophets and, as such the Church System.   First-Fruits Rise as World Falls The Trumpet Bill Burns -- 12/26/2005 You shall be astonished as you walk forward from this day. I tell you that I am going to build My house. It is a house that no man can build, and I will build on the mountain tops, and I will build in the places that people will flow into. I will build a house of power, for indeed this is the season of the horse (of power) when the sons of My right hand shall arise to their positions. I shall dispel the lies that I no longer move in power. I shall break through the darkness, for I Am the Light of this Day. I Am the Way, the Truth and the Life. Truth is going to be revealed in an unprecedented way as I come forth in power and build My house. It will be a house that I can dwell in, a place of healing and resurrection life, a place of revelation knowledge. You, My people, will see that house. Arise and rejoice, for I come, says the Lord!   Small Straws in a Soft Wind Marsha Burns - 12/26/2005 There is a rumbling; it is My power in the earth. It is resurrection power. I have been touched with the feeling of your infirmities. I have been touched by your grief and sorrow. Come forth. Rise up and come forth. You have been bound in grave clothes, but I call to you to come forth! I will bring you up and loose you from your bondages. I will cause you to overcome and to be victorious even over the death in the things you have experienced, says the Lord.   Glorified in His Saints Aaron Lim - 10/02/2006 I received this vision as I was listening to a talk by David Eells. In the vision, the whole land was dark, and nothing could be seen in the background. I saw the Lord Jesus Christ with a light around Him on the cross on top of a hill in the middle of the land. All around, at the bottom of the hill, I saw people who looked exactly like Jesus, like they were clones of Him. They were all wearing the exact same garments as each other and had the same light around them as Christ did, and they were all looking up towards Him on the cross. Praise His name! 2 Cor.3:18 But we all, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory, even as from the Lord the Spirit. 2 Cor.4:11 For we who live are always delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh. Gal.2:20 I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I that live, but Christ living in me: and that [life] which I now live in the flesh I live in faith, [the faith] which is in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself up for me. 2 Thes.1:10 when he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be marvelled at in all them that believed (because our testimony unto you was believed) in that day. 11 To which end we also pray always for you, that our God may count you worthy of your calling, and fulfil every desire of goodness and [every] work of faith, with power; 12 that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and ye in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ. After the vision, I knelt down to pray and closed my eyes, and I pictured Jesus Christ on top of the hill, as if through the eyes of one of the saints, and I said to Him a prayer from King David: “With all my heart have I sought you, don't let me wander from your commandments.” He looked at me and said, “Ask the Father, because anything you ask of Him will be done by the Father”. So I looked up to the sky and asked our Father, and tears started flowing from my eyes. To Him be the kingdom and the glory forever and ever. My brothers and sisters, seek diligently and keep your eyes on the Son because everything else is darkness, and in Him there's hope. Ask the Father to lead you by the hand to our Lord because we can't find Him on our own. I have faith in His power to perfect all of us in Jesus Christ.   Greater Works Coming  Rex Veron - 10/04/2006 Last night, around 1:30 or 2:00 AM, I dreamed; actually, it was like I was translated to this place. I was among many people of all walks of life and backgrounds. All of them were between 16 - 20 years old, except me. We were working as a team, casting out demons, praying, and exalting Jesus. We would speak and it would come to pass; healings, prophesying, deliverances, growing and replacing of limbs, it was awesome. It replayed several times, and I remember thinking I'm actually here with these people doing this. The feeling of presence was overwhelming. The people were non-descript, nothing distinguished one from another, and all had in common the love, reverence, and fear of the Lord. I have a strong sense this morning that this has something to do with the birth of the man-child and how the corporate body will function.   A Bird of Prey Teddy Lishan Desta (David's notes in red) What I have purposed from eternity that I will perform in its appointed time. My eternal counsel shall stand, and what I have purposed will be done. I am not a man to lie, not a son of man to change My mind. I will do what I counsel to do; I cannot deny Myself. Many have written about My plan for the last days. But did they truly learn from Me, or did they hear from My eternal counsels? Did they partake of the secrets of their God; did they visit the inner recesses of My word? Were the mysteries of the Holy One of Israel disclosed to them? Had they known My counsel, they would have declared My mind. Had they truly heard from Me, there would have been no error among My people. But what they spoke was of man; what they wrote was out of the learning of man. Neither the wise of this world could know about My doing, as it is discerned by My Spirit. None of their learned men could predict about My plan, as this was My much-kept secret. Jer.23:16 Thus saith Jehovah of hosts, Hearken not unto the words of the prophets that prophesy unto you: they teach you vanity; they speak a vision of their own heart, and not out of the mouth of Jehovah. 17 They say continually unto them that despise me, Jehovah hath said, Ye shall have peace; and unto every one that walketh in the stubbornness of his own heart they say, No evil shall come upon you. 18 For who hath stood in the council of Jehovah, that he should perceive and hear his word? Who hath marked my word, and heard it? 19 Behold, the tempest of Jehovah, [even his] wrath, is gone forth, yea, a whirling tempest: it shall burst upon the head of the wicked. 20 The anger of Jehovah shall not return, until he have executed, and till he have performed the intents of his heart: in the latter days ye shall understand it perfectly. 21 I sent not these prophets, yet they ran: I spake not unto them, yet they prophesied. 22 But if they had stood in my council, then had they caused my people to hear my words, and had turned them from their evil way, and from the evil of their doings. My people, listen to Me as I speak My heart to you; and carefully weigh My words which are from My heart. My secrets I disclose to you, and that which has not been known to past generations I reveal to you. You have not heard it before; only now I lift the shroud and reveal that which has been hid from the ages. You are My chosen generation, so I reveal My truths to you. This I do so that you shall build My Kingdom on earth and bring Me the glory (Isa 48; Eph.1:17-20; Rom.16:26-27). This is My will, My eternal counsel. Your God will stir a bird of prey, His instrument of judgment from its abode. God has readied His bird for these days. God shall use it to bring His eternal plan to pass on earth, and God's hand shall guide it into action. God will call it from the valleys of the Jordan, and make it to emerge from the lowest parts of the earth. As the phoenix rises from its ashes, so shall My bird rise from the furnaces. It will come forth from the smoldering fires, so it will gleam like burnished steel. It will ascend to the heights and strike across the skies like lightning. The world will be taken by surprise; its appearing shall strike fear among many. I have fully equipped the bird to fulfill all that I have called it to do. (This phoenix is the first fruits sons of God, in whom Jesus is resurrected from the death of the Jordan to do His works of old when He was the first fruits. They will bring truths hidden from the foundation of the world and authority to bring judgment on the beast and harlot.) Its eyes are like those of the eagle, penetrating and discerning from afar. Its wings are large and strong; it will not weary or tire. Its talons and beak are sharp and strong; none of its prey can escape its grips. My bird shall strike fear in the hearts of the kings of the earth, and the girdles of their loins will untie. Those who eat My people as one who eats bread, they shall be judged by My hand. Those who say they reside in their strong towers, them it shall attack and humble for their pride. Many will cry out to God for His mercy and forgiveness; many may find the door of repentance closed. But to you, My sons and daughters of the Faith, the bird shall come to you as a comforter, carrying healing in its wings. To you, it shall bring good tidings, the news of eternal joy and rest. You shall get protection under its wings and deliverance from your mortal enemies. With your eyes, you shall see the destruction of the wicked, and none of the pestilences coming to your gates. Mal.4:2 But unto you that fear my name shall the sun of righteousness arise with healing in its wings; and ye shall go forth, and gambol as calves of the stall. 3 And ye shall tread down the wicked; for they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet in the day that I make, saith Jehovah of hosts. You shall see My salvation coming to the earth; you shall see as the captives go free. You shall see your corporate prayers answered and your righteous petitions granted. I will wipe away your tears from your faces, and your mouth shall be filled with mirth. You will see the righteousness of God filling the world, as the Word of God is honored by all. Hos.6:2 After two days will he revive us: on the third day he will raise us up, and we shall live before him. 3 And let us know, let us follow on to know Jehovah: his going forth is sure as the morning; and he will come unto us as the rain, as the latter rain that watereth the earth. Mal.5:2 But thou, Beth-lehem Ephrathah, which art little to be among the thousands of Judah, out of thee shall one come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth are from of old, from everlasting. 3 Therefore will he give them up, until the time that she who travaileth hath brought forth: then the residue of his brethren shall return unto the children of Israel. 4 And he shall stand, and shall feed [his flock] in the strength of Jehovah, in the majesty of the name of Jehovah his God: and they shall abide; for now shall he be great unto the ends of the earth. Therefore, My people, wait upon your God expectantly as I AM to begin to fulfill My eternal plans. But many others will attempt to fight My will, but they shall fail. Many will try to shoot down My bird of prey, but no weapon fashioned against it can prosper. I AM your God Who does His eternal counsels faithfully in its appointed time. I do that which is truth, and I owe no one an apology, says the Lord. Word From the east, I summon a bird of prey; from a far-off land, a man to fulfill My purpose. What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned, that will I do (Isa.46:11). I am calling a man to come from the east; he will swoop down like a hawk and accomplish what I have planned. I have spoken, and it will be done (Isa.46:11). For as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man (Mat.24:27, NIV).   Man-child and Tribulation Approach He Shall Come to Be Glorified in His Saints Word given to Debra Klein - 02/08/2004 You cry out to me, My love, in heavy labor, groping for the touch of My hand ... the comfort of My Words in thy ears! You are drunk and delirious with the birth pangs to deliver my Son from thy womb! The tears of your pain have clouded thy sight and discernment as to where you are! You are here ... in the labor room ... in the holding pattern, laboring to bring forth My Son! I am with you, though you cannot see Me through your suffering and labor. Do you not hear the tender words of comfort I whisper in thy ears? Am I not so close that you do not feel my heart beating with yours as the labor increases? For in just a little while, He shall come forth from thy womb and we will rejoice in Him! My Child in you is stirring and restless, and also labors to come forth from you. The two of you labor together through the writhing pain, and I labor with you also. The Child is still now as He comes through the birth canal ... still and waiting for the last powerful thrust and push to come forth from thy womb to be delivered onto the earth and manifest My Glory! Fear not My Beloved. I am with you! Lean on me heavily as the labor grows hard! For I hold you completely in My Arms and wipe the sweat of your brow through these last excruciating pains before the final thrust! Listen, My love ... do you hear His heart beat within you? His heartbeat is increasing as He rises up within you! Any moment now My Beloved, He will come forth! Let Me wipe the tears from your eyes so that you can focus on Me as the labor grows. Focus on My Face and do not turn your eye from Me during these last pains. Hold tight to Mine Arm and the work of Mine Hand will deliver thee! Just a little while, My Beloved! Hold tight to Me! And the world will know that I, the Father, have brought forth My Son through you! Fear not My Love, the dragon lies cunning in anticipation of His birth, but I am here and will protect Him and you from the evil one who desires in his heart to devour Him. He has no victory over My Hand that delivers My Son onto the earth! Rest My Love, between the pangs of labor, for you will need to be strengthened to endure the final moments of the labor. Lay back in My Arms and rest heavy upon Me, for soon, very soon My Son will come forth and I will deliver you into My Glory!   Tribulation Translations to Safety Javier Keefe - 03/01/2012 (David's notes in red) In the dream I had this morning, there was a nuclear missile that was heading to Earth. There were three types of people whom I saw when it was known that this missile would be crashing to Earth. The first group just gave up and started partying and drinking, reasoning, Well, we're all going to die, so we'd might as well enjoy our last moments. The second type of people thought, everyone for themselves, and a hoarding spirit prevailed in them. (Even though this missile could be a natural sign of what will come to many places on Earth, this missile is a symbol of coming catastrophe. Many people know that the end is near and lean upon whatever they trust in or gives some comfort to them.) The third type of people knew that when this missile hit the Earth, the yoke of this world system will be broken off of them supernaturally and that an anointing of protection with every need provided by the hand of their Father would be speedily met. They knew that the Lord's power and great grace, like could only be imagined by the heart, would become reality. (These saints knew that the end of hope in the world system brings the freedom of a new beginning. People can stop worrying about going to college and getting ahead and seek to know God and be in the “Secret place of the Most High”, Jesus Christ. The renewed imagination of faith in the promises of God's Word will supply every need, including protection.) This third group of people found they were able to fly and be translated to help the first two types of people. (See my dream below of translations to come.) The third group of people had so much faith in the good news of the latter rain anointing that they were a great help to many, and they were able to bring some to a safe house. (Those who believe the Gospel of Jesus bearing the curse for us can be delivered from it -- Galatians 3:13.) Even though some people were told about the safe house, some non-believers complained, “Nothing can help us from this coming tragedy”, and they refused to enter the safe house. (The safe house represents abiding in the Word, the Ark of Jesus Christ, and also physical places protected by the angels for people who are in the Ark of Jesus.) The missile was seen in the air like a large, bright star falling to Earth, but everyone knew it was a nuclear missile that would change the world forever once it hit. (America has been seen as a falling star. In the natural, one nuclear missile could bring America down to third-world nation status if exploded miles in the air to “hit Earth” with an EMP to destroy all electronics. Iran has tested their missiles for a high air burst. Javier never saw the missile hit Earth. Many have seen in dreams electronics come to a standstill in America.) The third group of people were at times, like Peter walking on the water; although they could fly at times, the awe of this phenomenon troubled them and kept them from continuing to fly. (Like Peter, when we pay attention to the wind and the waves, it drags our mind down into the natural and causes us to lose faith and sink.) As these people battled with their flying trouble, they got their eyes more on themselves. They thought they were failing to lift off the ground because they were not taking off fast enough, so they started to run and tried catching speed to lift off. Then, when that wouldn't work, they thought they had to be up off the ground and jump off something to catch air. (Salvation in all forms is by faith and not by self-works.) They finally realized they just had to stop confessing they “couldn't fly” and when they simply professed “they could fly,” they could fly again. (We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. Once this confusion of works versus grace through faith is past, there will be consistency to walk in the steps of Jesus under the latter rain anointing. Although in the spiritual we fly, or overcome the world, by faith, real translations were common in the New Testament, early rain and will be more so in the latter rain.) Overall, there was a great peace within the third type of people and it was spreading to some others and the scriptures of God's promises were being quoted non-stop, and the Word was the most important thing in the world that was held onto. Mar.11:23 Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou taken up and cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that what he saith cometh to pass; he shall have it. 24 Therefore I say unto you, All things whatsoever ye pray and ask for, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them. According to this verse, if you were caught in a place of apparent danger, since you are not under the curse, you could believe God to translate you somewhere else.)   David Eells - 08/18/2010 I was translated from Louisiana many years ago to preach in tongues in some Eastern European church. It was clear they were expecting me to appear in the pulpit, but were very excited when it happened. More recently, I asked the Lord for this gift and have expected it after the Man-child latter rain ministry begins, since it was also common in the early rain. Jesus “disappeared” in the numeric -- John 5:13; Luke 4:28-30; Acts 8:39; John 10:39? In type -- Ezekiel 3:14; 1 Kings 18:12. The boat translated in John 6:16-21. I believe in answer to this prayer, I received a dream in which I saw large, beautiful, tasty strawberries. (Which I believe represent the first fruits Man-child ministry, since strawberries are a spring fruit.) As I examined them, they were inside a dead fish with all kinds of nasty mud and trash around it. (I believe this represents the Man-child being born out of an apostate religious system represented by the fish and the mud and trash represent all the garbage doctrine and living associated with this system.) Also, I saw a war in which the enemy had large plastic tanks with metal straps around them (the kind used in the chemical industry where poisons and corrosives would destroy metal tanks.) We sought to destroy these tanks. (This poison represents strong demonic delusions sent in lying words and doctrines to destroy God's people. We are seeing some of this now.) Then I saw that I had been given a gift to translate from place to place and also to move people out of harm's way by this method. A group would stand beside me and be translated with me to a safe place. (The Man-child took the Woman into the wilderness refuge. Rev.12:5 And she was delivered of a son, a man-child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron: and her child was caught up unto God, and unto his throne. 6 And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that there they may nourish her a thousand two hundred and threescore days ...) When we translated, I said to the translated ones, “And we didn't even have [natural] wings”. (In Javier's dream, flying was translation. 14 And there were given to the woman the two wings of the great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness unto her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent. These next two verses could refer to the poison in the plastic tanks of strong delusions, which we sought to destroy. 15 And the serpent cast out of his mouth after the woman water as a river, that he might cause her to be carried away by the stream. 16 And the earth helped the woman, and the earth opened her mouth and swallowed up the river which the dragon cast out of his mouth.)

A Sermon for the Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity Ephesians 6:10-20 by William Klock If you haven't noticed, we have a mouse problem.  Usually the mice stay to the attic or the crawlspace, but for some reason, this year, they've decided to go everywhere.  For the last six weeks I've been plugging holes and setting traps and experimenting with bait: everything from peanut butter to dog treats to Veronica and Meredith's maple fudge.  All to no avail.  They don't touch the traps, but they poop right next to them as if to say, “Do you really think we're that stupid?”  And Friday, Friday was the last straw.  The last while has seemed like a steady stream of setbacks and disappointments.  This week I was working on my book on preaching while sending feedback to a couple of guys I've been advising on preaching.  I've been really struggling with that book and this week, chatting with these two guys, I finally kind of identified the obstacle I've been running up against and I don't really know how to get around it, and that's left me frustrated and discouraged.  And the City of Courtenay.  They won't clear the leaves in their little “conservation” area anymore, so I cleared the sidewalks, but then Thursday's storm blew the leaves back even deeper, so Friday morning I was using a snow shovel to move them out as far away as I could from the church so the wind wouldn't blow them back and in the process I strained something in my leg.  And then the news coming out daily this week from ACNA and about bishops not doing what bishops are supposed to do and bishops allegedly doing things that bishops aren't supposed to do.  I was really, really discouraged on Friday.  I'm rarely tempted to give up, but Friday I was close.  And then I heard a noise, and I turned and saw a mouse dart across the room and into the storage cubicle in the Sunday School.  So I got up to see where the mouse went.  I didn't find it, but I did find the nest.  In the seasonal banners.  It was gross.  The mice had peed and pooped and chewed holes in them.  And that was it.  Stick a fork in me.  I'm done.  I packed up my things and went home.  I tried the Elijah therapy.  I had a snack and a nap.  It didn't really work. I came back yesterday morning to clean up the mouse mess.  I checked the traps first.  I wanted revenge.  But alas—nothing—as usual.  So I started sweeping and mopping and vacuuming and while I was doing that I was praying—mostly for the death of the mice.  But somewhere between the mopping and the vacuuming it hit me.  Of all the things wrong with the world and wrong with the church, it wasn't the mice.  People sin, bishops sin, I sin—but not the mice.  The mice, as annoying as they are, the mice are doing exactly what God created them to do.  They're upstairs peeing and pooping and chewing on the banners, because that's what God made them to do and in doing it they give him glory.  And while I was discouraged and tempted to just give up, they were happily doing their thing, not caring at all that I'm out to get them—laughing their little mouse laughs at me as they poop right next to my traps.  Looking for a new place to build a nest after I kicked them out of the last one.  And as I vacuumed up their poop St. Paul's words from our Epistle kept running around my head like a mouse on a wheel: Stand firm! I—we—need to be like the mice.  We need to be what Jesus has made us to be and in that we will give God glory.  And, of course, in doing that, we'll catch the attention of the enemy, who will do his best to oppose us, to discourage us, to persuade us to throw in the towel.  Our Epistle today is from Ephesians 6—just about at the end of the letter.  The first part of the letter is about who we are—or, better, who Jesus has made us through his death and resurrection.  In Chapter 2 Paul writes that if we belong to the Messiah—if we have put our faith, our trust, our allegiance in him—then we are already “seated with him in the heavenly places”.  If by faith we are in the Messiah, then that's who we are: we're part of God's new creation, seated with our king in glory.  But of course, this is one of those “already, but not yet” things.  It's begun, but it's not yet finished.  Think about it.  When he rose from death, Jesus won the decisive battle over sin and death.  But that doesn't mean the war is over.  Sin and death, the principalities and powers of the old evil age still, nevertheless, continue to fight on even though they've already lost.  It won't be over until the gospel and the Spirit have gone out to bring God's new creation to the ends of the earth—until the knowledge of his glory covers the earth as the waters cover the sea.  And here's the point that Paul is trying to make here at the end of Ephesians: Because we've been united with Jesus the Messiah, because what's true of him is true of us, because we are seated with him in the heavenlies, that means that we've been recruited to take part in this great messianic battle to carry the gospel and God's glory to the ends of the earth—to proclaim the victory Jesus won on the cross to the people who haven't yet heard that good news, who haven't yet heard that he's the world's true lord. And if we do this, we will face opposition.  That's why, when you make it clear for example, that your church isn't in the business of playing musical chairs with other churches, but about going out to proclaim and live the gospel to bring people to Jesus, the devils will fight you.  That's why, when you make it clear that you're not going to compromise with the philosophies, with the politics, with the systems of the world, the devils will fight you.  That's why, when you make it clear that you're going to live out new creation and make the glory of God known here and now, the devils will fight you.  They will fight you.  They will throw hurdles in your path.  They will go for the weakest link and they will cause your leaders to stumble and fall.  They will do whatever they can to discourage you and tempt you to throw in the towel. And so Paul writes to the Ephesian Christians and he says, “The one thing left to say is this: Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power.”  Don't be strong in yourself.  That won't cut it.  Be strong in the Lord, because he's the one who has won the victory.  “Put on God's complete armour,” he says.  “Then you'll be able to stand firm against the devil's schemes.”  And, to be clear, it's the devil's schemes.  “The warfare we're engaged in, you see, isn't against flesh and blood.  It's against the principalities, against the powers, against the cosmic powers that rule the world in this dark age, against the wicked spiritual elements in the heavenly places.” I expect this took some time to sink in with Paul's original audience—especially his fellow Judeans.  It's not that they didn't believe there are unseen forces in the world.  That's a problem unique to people today with all of our post-enlightenment materialistic thinking.  If we can't see it, it doesn't exist.  People in the First Century knew better than us.  They knew there are spiritual powers we can't see.  The issue is that when we think of enemies, we almost always think of people.  It's the guy on the city council who wants to take away the tax exempt status of churches.  It's the people in the wrong political party.  It's the people in that foreign country that hate us.  It's the Communists or it's the Muslims or the alphabet people or the pronouns people.  Paul's people thought the same way.  Judeans thought it was the pagans.  Their enemies were the Greeks who tried to stamp out their way of life back in the Second Century B.C.  It was the Romans who presently ruled them and whose grip was getting tighter and tighter.  Paul knew that as persecution came to the churches at the hands of unbelieving Jews and pagan Greeks and Romans Christians would be tempted to start thinking the same way about them. And Paul's wanting them to understand here that none of those people is the real enemy.  Maybe they once were, but when Jesus died on the cross and rose again, he redefined the battle.  Jesus didn't go to the cross to defeat the Greeks or the Romans or the Communists or the Muslims.  He went to the cross to defeat sin and death and the powers of evil—those powers that, since the serpent tempted Eve, have infiltrated God's good creation and corrupted it, that have caused us to worship idols instead of God, that have caused us to forsake our vocation as the stewards of his creation and priests of his temple, that have caused us to turn on each other instead of loving each other as God loves us.  Jesus came like a new Adam to defeat not us, but the powers of evil, and in the process to forgive us for our rebellion and treason and to restore us to our old vocation, to do the job he created us for in the first place.  That's what it means to bear his image. And Paul knew that this meant Jesus has called us to fight at his side.  Not to fight the Greeks or the Romans or the Communists or the Muslims, but to fight the powers of evil, the principalities and powers and spiritual forces that have infiltrated creation and brought darkness where there should be light.  Again, at the cross he won the decisive victory, now he calls us into his gospel army to proclaim that good news.  To announce to the world that Jesus is Lord, that there is forgiveness of sins and reconciliation with God through him if we will only come in faith and give him our allegiance.  The Greeks and the Romans, the Communists and the Muslims aren't the enemy.  It's the dark powers behind them.  And never forget that those dark powers were once working in us, too.  And they're often much closer to home—even doing their work of corruption in our own house—if you've followed the ACNA news the past couple of weeks.  But the good news is that Jesus can deliver those people, just as he delivered us. This, by the way, is why Jesus hasn't just done the war all at once.  Because God is patient, loving, and gracious he's chosen to fight this war over the long term, giving the whole world the opportunity to hear and respond to the good news about Jesus.  Giving time for the gospel and the Spirit to infiltrate the systems and powers and people of this old evil age to undo what sin and death have done. So, Paul writes, stand firm and be prepared to fight—the real enemy.  And for that he says we need to take up the whole armour of God.  That's verse 13.  And this is really telling.  If you were paying attention when we read the Old Testament lesson this morning—the one from Isaiah 59—what Paul says here should sound familiar.  Through Isaiah the Lord promised that he would send a redeemer to set the world to rights.  Our Old Testament lesson is a promise of the coming Messiah, of Jesus.  Here's what we read: “‘The Lord saw it, and it displeased him that there was no justice. He saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no one to intercede; then his own arm brought him salvation, and his righteousness upheld him. He put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head; he put on garments of vengeance for clothing, and wrapped himself in zeal as a cloak. According to their deeds, so will he repay, wrath to his adversaries, repayment to his enemies; to the coastlands he will render repayment…And a Redeemer will come to Zion, to those in Jacob who turn from transgression,' declares the Lord.” Jesus was the first one to put on this armour and now, because we're united with him, because he's made us part of his new creation, and because he's called us to enter the battle and to stand firm against the darkness, he shares his armour with us—otherwise we wouldn't be able to stand at all.  And here's the armour as Paul describes it in Ephesians, starting again at 6:13: “For this reason you must take up the whole armour of God.  Then, when wickedness grabs the moment, you'll be able to withstand, to do what needs to be done, and still be on your feet when it's over.  So stand firm!  Put the belt of truth around your waist; put on justice/righteousness as your breastplate; for shoes on your feet, ready for battle, take the good news of peace.  With it all take the shield of faith; if you've got that, you'll be able to quench the flaming arrows of the evil one.  Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is God's word.” It starts with truth.  A Roman soldier's belt or girdle was sort of the thing that everything else attached to or hung from.  Put on truth as your belt.  Everything else depends on that.  In Isaiah's vision the Messiah was to come to set this broken world to rights and that begins with the truth.  The reason the world is in the mess it's in is because we believed the serpent's lie—that we could be like God.  Brother and Sisters, the truth is that that's idolatry.  Every other sin cascades from that.  The great lie that permeates the world is that we can do and be whatever we want.  That we can make our own reality and define goodness for ourselves.  But Jesus has come to remind us of the truth—the truth of the original creation and the truth of God's new creation.  And so before we go to battle evil, we've got to tie that truth around us.  The gospel isn't about our feelings; it's not what we make it; it's not about what we think might offend or not offend people; it's about the truth, the reality of God's goodness and his good creation and his purpose to set it and us to rights revealed in the good news about Jesus.  Tie that on and the rest follows naturally. Second, as a breastplate, put on God's justice or righteousness—remember in Greek they're the same word.  It's a reminder that at the heart of the gospel is God's plan to set this broken world to rights—to undo everything that's wrong, to undo all the sad things, to wipe away all the tears—ultimately and eventually to wipe every last bit of evil and sin and darkness from creation and even death itself.  And it's a reminder that when God raised Jesus from death, he overturned the world's false verdict against him and declared him to be in the right—and that if we are united with him, then we share in that verdict, in his vindication. And then for our shoes: peace.  “How beautiful are the feet of the one who announces peace…who says to Zion, Your God reigns.”  This is the place where Paul changes that Old Testament image from Isaiah.  Instead of vengeance, he calls us to put on peace.  The Jews wanted vengeance on their enemies, but Paul's reminding us that the Messiah, through his death, has reconciled us to God.  He's given us peace.  And that peace isn't just for us; it's for everyone.  And it's on our feet.  We stand on it.  The enemy will try to knock us down by making us think we're in this for vengeance—that we need to go after the Greeks or the Romans or the Communists or the Muslims, but if we stand on peace, on reconciliation with God, we will stand firm and remember that our fight is not with flesh and blood, but with the devil. The fourth bit of armour is the shield of faith.  In the ancient world an enemy might shoot flaming arrows at you, so you soaked your wooden shield in water.  We soak our shield in faith.  That means in the faithfulness of Jesus the Messiah and in our own responding faith—remembering that he's won the victory and trusting that he will empower us to stand firm in this gospel battle and win in the end.  And that goes with the helmet of salvation—like a gospel thinking cap, it reminds us Jesus has rescued the captives.  You and I no longer belong to sin and death, but to the Messiah.  It reminds us, too, why we're waging this battle: to free the men and women still captive, still slaves to sin and death. So far this armour is all for defence.  The Christian has only one offensive weapon and that should remind us about the nature of this battle.  It's not against flesh and blood, but against the unseen forces of evil that infiltrate the systems and institutions of the world.  Our sword, the weapon by which we advance the kingdom of God is the word.  In Isaiah 11:4 the Messiah smites the earth with the rod of his mouth and slays the wicked with the breath of his lips.  It's a wonderful illustration of the power of God's word and God's Spirit—not violence, but his creative and life-giving word—to free and to transform and to set the broken world right as it confronts the great lie with God's truth. But our Epistle doesn't quite end there.  Truth and justice, peace and faith, salvation and the word are all essential if we are going to stand firm.  To take up these things is to be the people that Jesus has made us through our union with him.  But union is about more than putting these things on, it's about real, literal union—or communion—with him.  We need to talk with our commander.  And so, in verses 18-20 Paul writes: “Pray on every occasion in the Spirit, with every type of prayer and intercession.  You'll need to keep awake and alert for this, with all perseverance and intercession for all the saints.  And also for me.  Pray that God will give me his words to speak when I open my mouth, so that I can make known, loud and clear, the secret truth of the gospel.  That after all, is why I'm a chained-up ambassador.  Pray that I may announce it boldly; that's what I'm duty-bound to do.” Paul was in prison because of his preaching, because he'd put on the armour of God and because he'd proclaimed God's truth.  But he knew that prison could not stop the march of the gospel and so he asked his brothers and sisters to pray for him—and not only for him, but live prayer, because that's what it means to be united to Jesus and to be baptised in God's Spirit—to be in constant communion with God.  It's not just about formal prayer—like when you sit down with your Prayer Book and your Bible and you prayer the prayers and pray the Psalms.  It's a life saturated with the presence of God and with communion with him. I don't know how it works.  I don't think anyone does.  I've read books and books on prayer and it remains a mystery, but the best ones all conclude: I don't know how it works, but I know it works.  Prayer doesn't change God—as if somehow hearing from me causes him to realise that my ideas and my plans are better than his.  But prayer changes things and it changes me and it changes us and things—kingdom things, grace things, glory things—happen when we pray and live in that communion with God. Brothers and Sisters, to pray is to act on and to live out the reality of Jesus' cross and of the new creation he's made us.  It's to know that, through Jesus and the Spirit, we can now walk with God the way Adam and Eve once did.  That we live in his presence and in his grace and in his love.  It's to know that he is our strength.  And so to pray, is to be what he has made us, it's to consciously reject our rebellion and sin, and to be his new creation.  The mice—they know nothing of sin, nothing of rebellion.  Mice have always been what God made them in the beginning.  And, like I said, because of that, mice give him glory even when they're just doing the ordinary things mice do.  We, on the other hand, rejected that life.  Jesus has given it back, but it's a struggle.  That's why Paul urges us to put on God's truth and justice, his righteousness and peace.  And it's why he urges us to pray without ceasing.  Because reliance on God is the only way we'll put to rest our old nature and be able to live into the new one he's given.  To pray is to look back to the cross in gratitude and to look forward in hope to God's new world, and find our life and our strength and everything else that matters in him—so that we can stand firm and so that we can glorify him. So, Brothers and Sisters, stand firm.  Stand firm and be the new creation that Jesus has made us.  Remember that we stand with our king in the battle, but that this battle is not against flesh and blood.  It's against the dark powers that corrupt flesh and blood, that make us hate and that make us enemies of one another.  Stand firm in God's truth and justice, stand firm in his peace and his salvation.  And confront the world with the good news of Jesus, crucified and risen.  And pray, pray, pray, remembering that he is with us and that he is our strength and our hope. Let's pray: Merciful Lord, grant to your faithful people pardon and peace; that we may be cleansed from all our sins, and serve you with a quiet mind; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

This is a summary of a special episode of the Gospel Addict Podcast, hosted by Greg Bryan and Jim Reske, featuring Kent Chevalier, the chaplain for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Greg Bryan, a self-proclaimed diehard Steelers fan who was born in Pittsburgh, expressed his excitement about learning more about Chevalier's ministryKent Chevalier, the chaplain for the Pittsburgh Steelers, described his path to NFL ministry, which began after 22 years as a local church pastor when tight end Vance McDonald started attending his church, leading to an invitation to serve the team alongside his wife, Erica, through Athletes in Action (AIA). Chevalier's ministry role involves offering separate Bible studies for players, coaches, and their families, maintaining the "ministry of availability" on the sidelines, and providing a half-hour, gospel-centered chapel service the night before games to "bring church to them". He addresses the intense pressures of fame and wealth by challenging rookies to recognize that the NFL stands for "not for long" (the average career is barely three years) and that their identity must be built on Christ, not the "ball," clicks, or money, reinforcing that they are "human beings," not "human doings". Chevalier initiated the "Deflect the Glory" movement, urging players to bend the knee and deflect praise and worship back to God, with associated apparel sales raising funds for overlooked Pittsburgh ministries. Finally, he is writing a book, Do It Afraid: Jumping into Your God-given Purpose, which includes the LEAP framework (Let God lead, Express your fears, Ask for wisdom, Pray through it) for navigating significant, faith-based decisions.Chevalier's website is:  www.teamchevalier.com/

In Isaiah 52, there is a vivid image of a messenger running over the mountains to bring good news—peace, salvation, and the proclamation that “Your God reigns!” The apostle Paul echoes this in Romans 10, reminding us that everyone who has been saved is also sent to share the Gospel. Like that ancient runner, we carry the hope of Jesus to a world still waiting for good news. Wherever your feet take you, carry that hope and share Jesus to a world that needs Him.

Our text is Deuteronomy 6:12: "Do not forget the LORD." Have you ever wondered why the book of Deuteronomy is so long? Why did Moses give such a long sermon to Israel as they were about to enter the promised land? Forty years wandering in the desert; they can smell the aromas of new land; they want to cross over; they want to finish the trip; to settle down; to build houses; to have homes. But Moses holds up a stop sign saying "Now, listen to me." The kids know its lecture time. Why? Moses sees that the land of Canaan is an enormous temptation. The affluence of the land will create a crisis in covenant faith. The new land will produce so well that Israel will think they can manage on their own. They will be tempted into thinking, "We don't really need the Lord God". Prosperity will breed amnesia. He warns against this, "be careful that you do not forget the Lord, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery" (6:12) and "make sure you don't become so full of yourself and your things that you forget" YOUR God (8:14 MSG). Moses wanted the Israelites to remember where they came from, the system of unbearable pressure in which they had to meet impossible brick production schedules. If they forget the God who freed them from Egypt, they are likely to create their own pressure system. Without remembering this history, they will become materialistic, believing that the goal of life is to acquire and acquire and acquire. A system of acquisition pits neighbour against neighbour. In Deuteronomy, Israel is warned to "Watch out!" or the land in its productivity will transform them into producers and consumers and will destroy the fabric of the covenantal neighborhood. The market of acquisition regards the land as property and possession to be bought and sold and traded and used. Israel is not to view the land this way. For her, the land is a birthright and an inheritance, one's own property is part of the larger inheritance of the whole people of God. If the land is possession, then we live with the pressure to acquire more. If the land is inheritance, then we live to enhance the neighborhood and the extended family so that all members may enjoy the good produce of the land. The economy was not to become a rat race in which people were exhausted from coercive goals; it was, rather, a covenantal enterprise for the sake of the whole community. In Deuteronomy, Moses exhorts Israel to reject the acquisitive culture of its neighbors for the sake of this covenantal alternative. How were they to remember? Simple. Keep Sabbath, which is remembering who they were and where they came from. We live in a very different time and place. Yet, the temptation is the same: to join the rat race. The way out of the rat race is the same: Sabbath, remembering that we belong to God through the redemptive suffering of Jesus Christ. What will you do this weekend? As you journey on, here Jesus' invitation: Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 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 11:28-29).

Your God-given destiny isn't random — it's revealed through purpose. In this message, discover the 3 divine mandates Jesus gave that unlock your calling: to reach the lost, to die to self, and to be a difference-maker in your world. These are the “greater works” He promised — not just miracles, but transformed lives through love, service, and faith.

Order of Service: - Prelude - Announcement - The Small Catechism (pp. 31-39): The Ten Commandments (read responsively) - Hymn 488 - I Am, Alone, Your God and Lord: vv. 1-3 - Matthew 22:37-40: Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” - Hymn 488 - I Am, Alone, Your God and Lord: vv. 4-7 - Devotion - Hymn 488 - I Am, Alone, Your God and Lord: vv. 8-10 - Prayer - Hymn 593 - On My Heart Imprint Thine Image - Blessing - Postlude Service Participants: Prof. Tom Rank (Preacher), Rev. Prof. Mark DeGarmeaux (Organist)

It's Wednesday, October 8th, A.D. 2025. This is The Worldview in 5 Minutes heard on 140 radio stations and at www.TheWorldview.com.  I'm Adam McManus. (Adam@TheWorldview.com) By Jonathan Clark 88 countries restrict Bible access The Bible Access Initiative released a list of nations where access to the Bible is restricted. Eighty-eight countries have at least some restrictions on Bible access. The country with the most extreme restrictions is Somalia followed by Afghanistan, Yemen, and North Korea.  The Bible Access List noted, “Bible access in Somalia is not just limited; it is outlawed. Under a strict interpretation of Sharia law, it is illegal to print, import, store, or distribute Bibles.” Many of the countries with the worst restrictions are Muslim-majority nations governed by Sharia law. In 2 Timothy 2:8-9, the Apostle Paul reminds us, “Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel, for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound!” 20,000 Canadian pro-lifers stood in Life Chain An estimated 20,000 pro-lifers joined Canada's 35th annual Life Chain on Sunday. Participants took the streets across hundreds of cities in Canada. They held pro-life signs along roadways and prayed for the end of abortion. Josie Luetke with the Campaign Life Coalition told LifeSiteNews, “You see longtime, elderly activists with their walkers and lawn chairs and families with young kids running around. Life Chain is really a group effort . . . and it is a joy to see the entire pro-life movement united in this cause on this one day.” 30% of Canadian 11 to 13-year-olds open to church if invited Speaking of Canada, youth evangelism ministry OneHope released a report on the spiritual state of Generation Alpha in the country. The study covered young people between the ages of 11-13.  Forty-nine percent of respondents identified as Christian, 35% as non-religious, and 16% as other religions. Only 27% of Gen Alpha Christians qualified as committed Christians through Biblical beliefs and regular prayer and Bible reading.   Among non-religious teens, 30% said they would be open to attending a Christian church service if a friend invited them.  Trump eager to cut billions in waste and abuse during shutdown In the United States, the federal government shutdown continues as funding proposals from Republicans and Democrats keep failing in the Senate.  Democrats are withholding support for a funding bill unless it extends Obamacare subsidies. Republicans want to deal with the issue later in the year. President Donald Trump said he wants to use the shutdown to cut billions of dollars of waste, fraud and abuse.  Listen.  TRUMP: “Because of the shutdown, which I think they made a big mistake, we're able to take out billions and billions of dollars of waste, fraud and abuse. And they've handed it [to us] on a silver platter. Elon Musk: Cancel your NetFlix subscription over transgender shows Tech billionaire Elon Musk is echoing recent calls for people to cancel their Netflix subscriptions over immoral programming for children.  He posted on X last Wednesday, “Cancel Netflix for the health of your kids”.  The shares of Netflix dropped nearly 5% over the course of last week. The recent trend to cancel Netflix resulted from conservative voices exposing Netflix for pushing transgender shows on children.  More Americans perceive having kids as a blessing Pew Research released a new report showing that more people view having children as a good thing for America. Fifty-three percent of U.S. adults say that if more people choose not to have children, it will have a negative impact on the country. That percentage is up from 47% last year. Only 20% of respondents said that people choosing not to have children would be positive for America.  Among men, 59% said fewer people having children would have a negative impact. Among women, that number fell to 48%. Anniversary of William Tyndale's death for translation Bible into English And finally, this week is the anniversary of William Tyndale's death, traditionally commemorated on October 6. Tyndale faced arrest and later death in 1536 for alleged heresy. However, he had worked tirelessly to translate the Bible into English. It was his devotion to Scripture that brought him into conflict with church and civil leaders. In response to an assertion of the supremacy of the Pope, Tyndale famously said, “I defy the Pope and all his laws; and if God spares my life, ere many years, I will cause the boy that driveth the plow to know more of the Scriptures than thou dost!” Copies of Tyndale's translation were smuggled into England by the thousands. His work would form the basis of the Great Bible, edited by Miles Coverdale. It made its way into every parish church just three years after Tyndale's death. Isaiah 52:7 says, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.'” Close And that's The Worldview on this Wednesday, October 8th, in the year of our Lord 2025, my bride Amy's 49th birthday. Read our love story.  Follow The Worldview on X or subscribe for free by Spotify, Amazon Music, or by iTunes or email to our unique Christian newscast at www.TheWorldview.com.  I'm Adam McManus (Adam@TheWorldview.com). Seize the day for Jesus Christ.

This week we will spend time in simple, quiet worship. Let's simply focus on God and His goodness. Breathe deep and allow your spirit to connect to His Holy Spirit.Psalm 29 from The Message — A Psalm of David Bravo, God, bravo! Gods and all angels shout, “Encore!”In awe before the glory, in awe before God's visible power.Stand at attention! Dress your best to honor him!God thunders across the waters,Brilliant, his voice and his face, streaming brightness—God, across the flood waters.God's thunder tympanic, God's thunder symphonic.God's thunder smashes cedars, God topples the northern cedars.The mountain ranges skip like spring colts, The high ridges jump like wild kid goats.God's thunder spits fire.God thunders, the wilderness quakes; He makes the desert of Kadesh shake.God's thunder sets the oak trees dancing A wild dance, whirling; the pelting rain strips their branches.We fall to our knees—we call out, “Glory!”Above the floodwaters is God's throne from which his power flows, from which he rules the world. God makes his people strong. God gives his people peace.What words, what phrases stood out to you?What games of God moved your spirit to worship?Listen once again to the final verses:We fall to our knees—we call out, “Glory!”Above the floodwaters is God's throne from which his power flows, from which he rules the world. God makes his people strong. God gives his people peace.As you walk through hardships and the challenges of your life, remember that Your God is the God of the thunder, of the rain, and of glory and power. He has you. He holds you. To make you strong. To give you peace.Let's pray: “Father, I realize Your power. I recognize Your glory. Today, in this quiet moment, I worship You. Thank You for Your strong arm that protects my life. Thank You for Your gentle Spirit to give me peace. As above, so below.”

Episode Title: United We Stand*The Purposefully Fit Podcast is designed to inspire, motivate, and encourage you to pursue YOUR God-given passion purposefully.Visit Coach NikE's Website: IAmNikE.com

Modern Christians often miss the central message of the Bible: the reign of God through His Son. In this episode, Steve Wood explores how the theme of the King and His Kingdom is essential for understanding Colossians, Revelation, and the Gospels. Drawing on Colossians 1, Isaiah 52, and insights from leading scholars, we see how the Gospel is not just good news in general, but the royal proclamation that “Your God reigns.” This background sets the stage for grasping Paul's vision of Christ's kingdom and the sovereignty of God throughout Scripture. For more resources, visit us online at www.BibleforCatholics.com. 

I had the opportunity to spend 24 hours of my life in the city of Athens in Greece. I was on my way home from a teaching mission, and if I only had 24 hours, well, I knew what I wanted to see. I wanted to see the Acropolis, and there it was on a hill that just dominates the entire city. That's where the ancient Greeks built a temple to their goddess, Athena, after whom, obviously, the city was named. Even after 21 centuries, I've got to tell you it is still an impressive, imposing, dominating structure up there on the mountain. Maybe you can even see a picture of it in your mind, if you've ever seen one before. It was the most sacred, most protected, most honored place in all of Athens. In fact, it was actually a crime to violate that temple. Of course it was that way in many cultures. The temple always got first-class treatment because your gods live there. Well, those ancient people had the wrong god, but they knew what to do with a temple. I'm Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A Word With You today about "The Temple In The Mirror." Now, our word for today from the Word of God comes from 1 Corinthians 6:19-20. It's not about the Acropolis, it's not about the ancient Jewish temple, but it's about temples. Listen to where the temple is. "Do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." This is one of Christianity's most revolutionary ideas - you are the building God lives in. You can go in the bathroom, look in the mirror and see His temple. Even pagan people knew that the way you take care of your god's dwelling place tells a lot about how you feel about your god. Now, if you know Christ, you are God's two-legged temple. He's come to live in you by the presence of His Holy Spirit. That puts a whole new significance on your body - what happens with your mouth, your mind, your eyes, your ears, your hands, your feet, and every part of your body. Because in a sense, what you do with that body - everything you do with it - God is a part of. He lives in that temple. Everything you do to that body, you do to God. Now, even people without God in ancient days recognized that you guard, and you protect, and you keep special, and you honor the place where God lives. Let me ask you, "Have you been treating your body like the temple treasure that it is?" See, if you really care about your God much, you won't let His temple get run down. You won't let it have to carry the extra weight it's been carrying. You won't let it be too out-of-shape. You won't poison it with things that should never go into it; things that will degrade your body. It's a temple you're talking about, not just your body. That's a whole new reason to take care of it. See, that temple advertises what your god is like, and God deserves the best! Maybe you've devalued that temple with some junk you've been putting into it. Maybe you have defamed the temple of God by playing around sexually with His temple, dragging the name of God and the presence of God into things He is so much against, using His temple to satisfy your glands. Your body isn't yours. See, it was bought with the price of Jesus' blood. Your God lives there! Keep it special.

Episode Title: Anxiety Won't Win*The Purposefully Fit Podcast is designed to inspire, motivate, and encourage you to pursue YOUR God-given passion purposefully.Visit Coach NikE's Website: IAmNikE.com

John 8:19-20, So they were saying to Him, "Where is Your Father?" Jesus answered, "You know neither Me nor My Father; if you knew Me, you would know My Father also. These words He spoke in the treasury, as He taught in the temple; and no one seized Him, because His hour had not yet come. What is meant by “His hour”? I think “hour” could be synonymous to “time”. “His”—a possessive pronoun. Whatever “hour” is, it belongs to Him. Is it His hour of testing? Hour of temptation? Hour of suffering? Hour of power? Hour of prayer? Hour of glory? All are true. But notice that His hour is the same as the Father's hour. The Father determined it and orchestrated it, and the Son authorized it. The hour began when Judas left the upper room at Jesus' command. John 13:31-32 “Therefore when he had gone out, Jesus said, 'Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him; if God is glorified in Him, God will also glorify Him in Himself, and will glorify Him immediately.'” God's love controls every “hour” of our lives. He gives them to us so we might glorify Him. May we glorify our Father in heaven in every hour as we live to love with Jesus. To know Jesus is to know His Father—God Himself. If you know what Jesus loves, you know what God loves. Of Jesus, the Father says, “You have loved righteousness and hated lawlessness; Therefore God, Your God, has anointed You with the oil of gladness above Your companions.” (Hebrews 1:9). Do we love righteousness and hate lawlessness? Let's give Him freshly stirred love for righteousness today. I invite you to become a partner in our ministry. Would you pray about becoming a regular supporter of Elijah Ministries and the Live to Love with Jesus ministry? I hope you will receive the joy and benefit of "giving it forward," so others may receive encouragement to turn their hearts to God and to live to love with Jesus. You may give online or send a check to the address listed at www.spiritofelijah.com/donate.

Deacon Remmy teaches on having intimacy with God's Word and Obedience. Believers must intimately interact with God's word to receive personal wisdom. Key principles include obedience, submission, and humility. Your God-given position is a place to produce results, and your skills can be used to advance God's kingdom. Never neglect God's word, regardless of circumstances.

I remember it like yesterday: Professor Joe Master was the most intimidating instructor I ever encountered during my accounting degree. He'd call on you, and you'd better be ready. At one point, for six weeks, I was sicker than a dog. With temperatures over 102 (and eventually discovering I had pneumonia), I went to class every week, dreading whether Mr. Master would get me up in front of the class to answer a tough question. Then this professor did something unexpected: He never called on me once. He showed me compassion when I needed it most. Life has a way of bringing us to desperate places where we question if God cares about our pain or our struggle. Writing about this kind of grief and pain, the weeping prophet Jeremiah makes a declaration that you need to hear today: “Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22–23, NIV). When you're at the end of your rope and maybe even at the end of your hope, remember this truth: Your God is the God of compassion.

The further back you stay from the lines of temptation, the easier it is to resist them.Some of us need new guardrails. Some of us need to move the ones we already have closer. Some of us need to reinforce them higher. Guardrails aren't weakness—they're wisdom. And make no mistake: we have a role to play in protecting ourselves. That's why God says, “Ask and you shall receive. Seek and you shall find. Knock and it shall be opened.” Those are action words. First we act, then God steps in with His strength.Let's look at Daniel. In 605 B.C., King Nebuchadnezzar conquered Jerusalem. He was brilliant, strategic, and subtle. When he took captives, he didn't just lock them away. He hand-picked the best and brightest—young men like Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—and put them in Babylon's reprogramming system. He gave them luxury food, world-class education, and high status. To most, it probably felt like an upgrade. But Nebuchadnezzar wasn't being generous. He was slowly stripping away their identity and their faith until they looked more like Babylonians than followers of God.Most celebrated the perks. Daniel saw the trap. He realized compromise doesn't remove temptation—it just weakens your willpower. Compromise doesn't solve conflict—it postpones it. And compromise reveals whether you're living for God or for your own comfort.Daniel drew a hard line. He decided he would not eat the king's food. That was a bold refusal to let Babylon redefine his values. It was offensive to their system, but Daniel had already made up his mind. Think about that—he didn't wait until the pressure was on. He decided ahead of time. He was young, far from home, surrounded by power, and under threat of death. But he chose not to defile himself before a holy God.Every time we compromise, it gets easier the next time. Every time we give in, our spiritual strength fades. But every time we stand firm, we strengthen our resolve. Your God-honoring beliefs will offend worldly standards. The question is—are you ready for that fight?Daniel made his choice before he knew the end of the story. We already know how sin's story ends. That's why we must decide now—before the pressure comes—to draw our lines and not defile ourselves in the presence of a holy God.

There is no one like the Lord Who alone exists in glorious holiness and does wonderful works of salvation. Your God is Glorious in Holiness.

Your God will show up

Matthew 4:1-11   There are usually two ways the enemy tempts us: he gets us to doubt our identity in God, or he gets us to believe in our identity outside of God. But ultimately, we have to make the decision to believe and do what we want - Satan can only tempt, he can't force us to do anything. Yet it is all too easy for us to press into the idea that we can, in a sense, be our own gods. In order to combat this temptation, we must recognize: Your God complex There can be only one Only God can rule: rightly, effectively, and justly   Crossroads – about heaven, earth, and the journey in between. Connect with us Website: www.crossroadsjourney.com YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC17oxaQ1yWK2DgN0xnlMO_g Facebook: www.facebook.com/crossroadsjourney

1. Your God reigns!a. Trust God's timing.b. Jesus is human enough to meet your moment but is God enough to redeem it.2. Stop doing life on your own terms.

Agrippas, the Roman general, asked Rabban Gamliel (paraphrase): Your God is a jealous God, but people are only jealous of those who are in real competition, so how can He be jealous of idols, which are fundamentally nothing? Plus, an example of a man who takes a second wife, and when that will make the first wife feel bad (in analogy to God vs. idolatry). Also, a challenge from people who are seemingly healed by idols. Plus, the perfect timing of suffering that can then confuse bystanders. Also, a focus on wine-making and taking the juice out of the grape - when does it become wine? (for halakhic concerns). Plus, draining the grapes and the implications as compared to juice flowing easily.

Psalm 96,Oh sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth!2 Sing to the Lord, bless his name; tell of his salvation from day to day.3 Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples!4 For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; he is to be feared above all gods.5 For all the gods of the peoples are worthless idols, but the Lord made the heavens.6 Splendor and majesty are before him; strength and beauty are in his sanctuary.7 Ascribe to the Lord, O families of the peoples, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength!8 Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name; bring an offering, and come into his courts!9 Worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness; tremble before him, all the earth!10 Say among the nations, “The Lord reigns! Yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved; he will judge the peoples with equity.”11 Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it;12 let the field exult, and everything in it!Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy13 before the Lord, for he comes, for he comes to judge the earth.He will judge the world in righteousness, and the peoples in his faithfulness. You were made to worship God. That is true of every single human being that has ever existed. If you're here and you're a human, you were made for worship. Look around, most of us in this room would say that we were made for worship — so here's a question: What is worship? What is the meaning of true worship?You don't need to answer this out loud, but imagine for a minute that you're having a conversation with a friend or a co-worker — if they asked you to explain the meaning of worship, what would you say?See I wonder if worship might be the most important calling in our lives that we know the least about.So that's our topic this morning. We're gonna focus on the meaning of true worship because that's what Psalm 96 is all about. And I think we discover here at least two truths about what true worship is, and I can't wait to show you, but first let's pray again.Father in heaven, we recognize that there are countless things that could get in the way of our hearing you this morning. There are countless things inside us and outside us that would block our hearts from receiving what you have for us, and so right now, I ask that you would triumph over all those things. I ask that you break through every barrier to magnify your glory in the preaching of your word. In Jesus's name, amen.Here's the first truth we discover about true worship:1. True Worship is a vertical response to the greatness of God. In Psalm 96, there are 18 verbs spread across 12 verses and they're all about worship. Just listen to the verbs: It's … Sing, sing, singBless, tell, declareAscribe, ascribe, ascribeBring, worship, trembleSay, be glad, rejoice, Roar, exult, sing!This is most of the psalm.Now none of these verbs by themselves are true worship because you can sing, tell, and ascribe anything to anybody — and people do — so what makes this true worship, at the start, is that all of this is directed to God. And this makes sense. If it's true worship, of course, it must be to God, about God, and also because of God.This last part is really important. See, in the context of all these directives to worship God in Psalm 96, the psalmist grounds that worship in who God has revealed himself to be.We see this in verses 4–6 and in verse 13. And I want you to see it with me beginning in verse 4. Following the “For” in FourSo everybody find verse 4. This will be super easy. I want you to find the verse 4 and the word “for” — it's the very first word of the verse. Find verse 4, word “for” — if you see it, say Got it.Verses 1–3 has been sing, sing, sing, bless, tell, declare — here's why: 4 For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; he is to be feared above all gods. 5 For all the gods of the peoples are worthless idols, but the Lord made the heavens. Skip to verse 12: Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy 13 before the Lord, for he comes, for he comes to judge the earth. Our worship of God is because of God — this means that worship is a response. Now think about this: a response is something that comes second. It doesn't happen unless something else happens first. It's like answering your phone — you answer your phone after it rings. Most people still answer their phone after it rings. But what nobody does is just pick up their phone at random and say ‘hello' — if you did that we'd be concerned. You answer your phone in response to the ring.Worship is kind of like that — it's not an original act. It's a secondary act — we can only worship God because he first has shown us who he is. Without him doing that, we'd still be in the dark. We're not smart enough or good enough to worship God on our own. True worship is vertical in direction and vertical in source. God first has to tell us who he is — and he has through his world and his word. This is God's grace to us.The Greatness of God DisplayedAnd in his word, Psalm 96, we see the revelation of his greatness.We can see the word “great” in verse 4 — the Lord, Yahweh, is great and therefore he is worthy of our praise. And then we see that his greatness is demonstrated in two facts about him. Here they are: God is Creator and God is Judge. Now where am I getting that? …God Is CreatorFor Creator, we see it in verse 5. The psalmist does a little comparative religion here. He says:“The gods of the peoples are worthless idols, but Yahweh made the heavens.”And that's why Yahweh is greater. See, back in the day — which has been most of human history before the last 300 years — people were much more aware of how enchanted our world is. People recognized little-g gods everywhere — tribal deities, geographic deities, all of that. The world is still as spiritual today as it was then, but people saw it then. They were awake to it. And that's what makes verse 5 so amazing. The psalmist was well aware of the competing deities of his day, and he calls them all “worthless idols.” He is radically unimpressed by them. They're pathetic. They're useless. They're powerless. But, in contrast, Yahweh made the heavens.Your ‘little-g' god is a block of wood, while Yahweh is the one who spoke trees into existence. See the difference? Yahweh is greater. He's the Creator.Now, in our day, in our society, most non-Christians are not bowing down to carved statues — some do, most don't — but our world is still full of idols. There are still countless things that people honor in the place of God. And there are dark spiritual forces at work here. The big three for a long time has been money, sex, and power. These are gods in America.I had a conversation yesterday with a neighbor — a great guy — we were talking and he said he wasn't religious and I explained to him that everybody is religious. Everybody has some god, the question is who. I told him the gods of our day, for a lot of people, are money, sex, and power and he was like totally. It made sense to him. And if we're honest, none of us are oblivious to their seduction…If I could just get more money, how much better life would be! …If I could just have a romantic relationship, then I'd be satisfied …If I could just get my way all the time, everything would be great …These are the idols of our day, and like the psalmist here, we should be passionately clear that God is greater than all of them. They will not deliver what they promise. And what we'll find if we chase these things is one dead-end road after the other. But Yahweh made the heavens! Yahweh is behind and before everything that is. Yahweh is greater, he's the Creator!God Is JudgeBut not only that, Yahweh is also the Judge. That's the concluding fact in verse 13:“The Lord [Yahweh], for he comes. For he comes to judge the earth.”You ever heard that before?God is going judge this world. We learn more about this judgment in the New Testament. It's carried out by God the Son, Jesus Christ. Paul says in Acts 17:31 that God has “fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed [that's Jesus]” 2 Corinthians 5:10, “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ…” One day, every human being will stand in front of Jesus and be judged by him. We don't think about this a lot, but the Day is coming. I remember the first time I met my friend Ray. He visited our church for the first time, and I was talking with him after the service, and he told me he wanted to be baptized and get plugged into the church because, he said, “Jesus is coming back to judge the world.” True story. That's what he said. He's right. God will judge the world.And that's why he's great. God is Creator and Judge. Which means he is first cause and final say. You've heard the phrase “you're about to meet your Maker.” That's a threat in action movies, but it's theologically on point. Every one of us will meet our Maker. The one who gave you life will one day call you to account for that life. The hands that formed you are the same hands that will judge you. And that's why God is great.God is great and greatly to be praised. True worship is a vertical response to the greatness of God.Here's the second truth we learn about worship …2. True worship is a horizontal declaration of the goodness of God.We see this in verses 2–3. We've already seen here that worship is the theme of Psalm 96, but notice what this worship includes. Verse 2: Sing to the Lord, bless his name; tell of his salvation from day to day. 3 Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples!Now the keyword here is that word “tell.” Do y'all see that in the second part of verse 2? I want you to circle that word with your eyes. This is a special word in the Old Testament. It shows up in some key places. One big one is Isaiah 52:7. You may have heard this verse before. Isaiah 52:7,How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”Now that phrase “brings good news” — that's the word translated as “tell” in Psalm 96:2. In the Greek Old Testament, it's word euangelizō. In English it means “preach the gospel.”Did you know that preaching the gospel is part of worship?According to Psalm 96, preaching the gospel (telling the good news) is part of worshiping God. Worship is a vertical response to God for his greatness and there's a horizontal declaration of his goodness.This means that true worship has a missionary character. We're singing and ascribing, and we're telling and declaring, because we want others to join us in the singing and ascribing. And if there is no telling and declaring it means that our worship is deformed. It's less than true. That's the implication here.And that's the danger of an ingrown church. I'll use that phrase “ingrown church” a lot these days because that's a real temptation for any church that's been around for a decade, and maybe especially for a church that has a nice building like this. Can't we just come here and worship, just us? Do we really need more people here? New people here? Can't we just keep it us?I want to be clear here: if our worship of God is not something we want others to be a part of, then it's broken. And I believe Jesus doesn't like it that way.True worship includes a horizontal declaration of the goodness of God. Because he is good. We have good news. We have a God who saves. He saves! I want to end like this: I want to give you three facts about God's salvation. This is what we get to declare.1. God's salvation is for all peoples.The psalm says it — we declare his glory among the nations and his marvelous works among all the peoples! We call all the families of the peoples to ascribe to God the glory due his name.This is amazing. It means that God is not just for one particular tribe, or one kind of people. He truly is for everyone from everywhere. To make it personal, think about your own life, your own story. There's nothing about your person or nothing about your past that excludes you from God. Listen: God can save you wherever you're from and whatever you've done — amen? If you're not moved by that it's because either you didn't hear what I just said or you're self-righteous.Seriously — the most literal Pharisaical thing someone could do is to despise or ignore the universal reach of God's salvation. Everybody gets to be saved if they would just come home. Come home to the love of God! That invitation goes to everyone. God's salvation is for all peoples.2. God's salvation is from his wrath. To be “saved” is a great Bible word, but it doesn't make sense to a lot of people. If we were to ask someone if they're saved, the first thing they might say is, “Saved from what?”This is where Psalm 96 is really helpful. The perspective here keeps in view the coming judgment of God. Again, remember Jesus is coming, as Paul says in 2 Thessalonians 1:8, Jesus is coming “with his mighty angels in flaming fire [to inflict] vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus.”What does it mean to obey the gospel? That's a phrase used in the New Testament. It has to do with the reign of God. That's part of what makes the good news good. It's that God reigns. We heard that in Isaiah 52:7; we see it in Psalm 96:10; and it was also how the apostles preached. The apostles didn't just say, “Your sins can be forgiven” — they said, “Jesus is Lord of all” (see Acts 10:36). They proclaimed that Jesus is risen from the dead and reigning. They preached the supremacy of Christ as good news because it is — and that is one way to divide the world. When we read in Psalm 96:10, “Say among the nations, ‘Yahweh reigns!”' — there are two kinds of people in the world. There are those who love the reign of God and those who hate the reign of God. No middle ground. And if you hate the reign of God, too bad, because it's coming anyway. And if you hate the reign of the King when the King comes, you will face the wrath of the King. That makes sense, right?Well, the good news is that you can be saved from that wrath if you bow to the King. That is the proclamation! That's what the herald says:Hear ye! Hear ye! The King is coming! He has conquered sin and death, and his victory is on the way! Receive it now while you can!And I mean that. In this room right now, I'm inviting you … Stop hating the reign of God. Bow to Jesus Christ and believe. Receive his salvation. Receive the goodness of his rule.3. God's salvation is awaiting final consummation. The salvation of God that we receive now is real. We receive it by faith in Jesus and it's effective. We become new creatures; we're filled with the Holy Spirit; our lives are changed. But also, it's a salvation not yet complete. There's a grand finale of our salvation that we're still waiting for at the return of Jesus.The apostle Paul tells us in Philippians 3 that as Christians, “our citizenship is in heaven, and from it [from heaven] we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body…”And the theological word for this future transformation is consummation. It's the final and complete fulfillment of our salvation. When Jesus returns, every detail of brokenness will be restored and we will be made perfectly like him. The New Testament talks about this hope in several places, but Romans Chapter 8 is the go-to.Paul says in Romans 8:18 that we're waiting for a future glory that will be revealed to us … and then he says something that we didn't see coming. He says that all of creation is also waiting for our future glory. Romans 8:19, “the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.” The whole creation will experience the freedom of the glory of the children of God, and so the whole creation is groaning (or sighing) for that future day.Can you imagine that?Back in July, my family and I spent a week at the beach in North Carolina, and one of my favorite things to do at the beach is get up early and watch the sunrise. You're watching the giant orange ball in the sky right here, and then the waves are crashing here, and it's music. It's beautiful. And you can hear the longing in it, if you use your imagination. To think that all of us together are waiting for a future day. The sun and the sea, the seagulls and the sky — we're all waiting for something. So we can say:11 Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; 12 let the field exult, and everything in it! Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy 13 before the Lord, for he comes, for he comes to judge the earth.The day is coming. And we worship now in that hope.Two truths about worship:True worship is a vertical response to the greatness of God. True worship is a horizontal declaration of the goodness of God. And we come to the Table to do both. The TableAt this Table, we give thanks to Jesus for his death and we proclaim his death until he comes. Vertical response and horizontal declaration. It goes like this:If you're a Christian, if you have trusted in Jesus Christ to save you, let's eat and drink and give him thanks.If you're here and you're not yet a Christian, we proclaim him to you: Jesus is the Lord of all and he came to save you — put your faith in him. Come home.

The Church Street Podcast: The Bullpen Episode Title: How Big is Your God? Where every voice gets a turn at the mic. At First Grapevine, we're blessed with three gifted preachers—but not every voice is heard every Sunday. That's why we created The Bullpen: a space where emerging voices bring fresh perspectives and deeper spiritual insight. In this episode, Pastor Zach Stiefel and Sandy Robinson sit down for an honest, soul-stirring conversation around Isaiah 55:8–9: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Also in this episode: Zach's and Sandy's personal journeys to their calling A look into the meaning behind the "God Is Big Enough" bracelets Practical encouragement for growing in faith—even when God's ways seem beyond our understanding Stay Connected Follow us on social media to stay up to date with The Bullpen, The Church Street Podcast, and everything happening at First Grapevine. Let's keep growing together—in truth, grace, and community. We're so glad you're here.

Have you ever made a fort? Or a tree house? Maybe you just used all the blankets in your home to build a tent fort in your living room? Our lesson this week is about a special place that God made so that he could dwell or live with His people. He wanted to be near them, to live among them, He wanted to be their God. Did you know that He wants to live in you? If you open your heart to Him, He will dwell in you and be YOUR God! Year A Quarter 3 Week 31All Bible verses are from the NKJVHymn: The Lord is in His Holy TempleYear A Quarter 3 Week 30All Bible verses are from the NKJVWrite to Ms. Katie: seedpod@startingwithjesus.comKatie's Korner: https://startingwithjesus.com/katies-korner/Find the Lessons Here:Kindergarten https://bit.ly/SeedPodKLessonsPrimary https://bit.ly/SeedPodPLessonsConnect with Us:Website: https://startingwithjesus.comStarting With Jesus - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/StartingWithJesusSeedPod - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCvU2FBPEL5-Zi2QW0STVLgInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/startingwithjesusFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/startingwithjesusAcknowledgments:Bible Readings this week: JuliaPodcast Producer: Katie ChitwoodSound Engineer: Dillon AustinMy Bible First, https://bit.ly/SeedPodLesson for use of their Bible Lesson curriculum.AudioVerse, https://www.audioverse.org/ for partnering with us and supporting our ministry.Lindsey Mills, for writing and performing our SeedPod Kids Theme Song & Background Music.To learn more about her music or to get her CD, email her: lindsey@startingwithjesus.com 

Have you ever made a fort? Or a tree house? Maybe you just used all the blankets in your home to build a tent fort in your living room? Our lesson this week is about a special place that God made so that he could dwell or live with His people. He wanted to be near them, to live among them, He wanted to be their God. Did you know that He wants to live in you? If you open your heart to Him, He will dwell in you and be YOUR God! Year A Quarter 3 Week 31All Bible verses are from the NKJVHymn: The Lord is in His Holy TempleYear A Quarter 3 Week 30All Bible verses are from the NKJVWrite to Ms. Katie: seedpod@startingwithjesus.comKatie's Korner: https://startingwithjesus.com/katies-korner/Find the Lessons Here:Kindergarten https://bit.ly/SeedPodKLessonsPrimary https://bit.ly/SeedPodPLessonsConnect with Us:Website: https://startingwithjesus.comStarting With Jesus - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/StartingWithJesusSeedPod - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCvU2FBPEL5-Zi2QW0STVLgInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/startingwithjesusFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/startingwithjesusAcknowledgments:Bible Readings this week: JuliaPodcast Producer: Katie ChitwoodSound Engineer: Dillon AustinMy Bible First, https://bit.ly/SeedPodLesson for use of their Bible Lesson curriculum.AudioVerse, https://www.audioverse.org/ for partnering with us and supporting our ministry.Lindsey Mills, for writing and performing our SeedPod Kids Theme Song & Background Music.To learn more about her music or to get her CD, email her: lindsey@startingwithjesus.com 

Have you ever made a fort? Or a tree house? Maybe you just used all the blankets in your home to build a tent fort in your living room? Our lesson this week is about a special place that God made so that he could dwell or live with His people. He wanted to be near them, to live among them, He wanted to be their God. Did you know that He wants to live in you? If you open your heart to Him, He will dwell in you and be YOUR God! Year A Quarter 3 Week 31All Bible verses are from the NKJVHymn: The Lord is in His Holy TempleYear A Quarter 3 Week 30All Bible verses are from the NKJVWrite to Ms. Katie: seedpod@startingwithjesus.comKatie's Korner: https://startingwithjesus.com/katies-korner/Find the Lessons Here:Kindergarten https://bit.ly/SeedPodKLessonsPrimary https://bit.ly/SeedPodPLessonsConnect with Us:Website: https://startingwithjesus.comStarting With Jesus - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/StartingWithJesusSeedPod - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCvU2FBPEL5-Zi2QW0STVLgInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/startingwithjesusFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/startingwithjesusAcknowledgments:Bible Readings this week: JuliaPodcast Producer: Katie ChitwoodSound Engineer: Dillon AustinMy Bible First, https://bit.ly/SeedPodLesson for use of their Bible Lesson curriculum.AudioVerse, https://www.audioverse.org/ for partnering with us and supporting our ministry.Lindsey Mills, for writing and performing our SeedPod Kids Theme Song & Background Music.To learn more about her music or to get her CD, email her: lindsey@startingwithjesus.com 

Have you ever made a fort? Or a tree house? Maybe you just used all the blankets in your home to build a tent fort in your living room? Our lesson this week is about a special place that God made so that he could dwell or live with His people. He wanted to be near them, to live among them, He wanted to be their God. Did you know that He wants to live in you? If you open your heart to Him, He will dwell in you and be YOUR God! Year A Quarter 3 Week 31All Bible verses are from the NKJVHymn: The Lord is in His Holy TempleYear A Quarter 3 Week 30All Bible verses are from the NKJVWrite to Ms. Katie: seedpod@startingwithjesus.comKatie's Korner: https://startingwithjesus.com/katies-korner/Find the Lessons Here:Kindergarten https://bit.ly/SeedPodKLessonsPrimary https://bit.ly/SeedPodPLessonsConnect with Us:Website: https://startingwithjesus.comStarting With Jesus - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/StartingWithJesusSeedPod - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCvU2FBPEL5-Zi2QW0STVLgInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/startingwithjesusFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/startingwithjesusAcknowledgments:Bible Readings this week: JuliaPodcast Producer: Katie ChitwoodSound Engineer: Dillon AustinMy Bible First, https://bit.ly/SeedPodLesson for use of their Bible Lesson curriculum.AudioVerse, https://www.audioverse.org/ for partnering with us and supporting our ministry.Lindsey Mills, for writing and performing our SeedPod Kids Theme Song & Background Music.To learn more about her music or to get her CD, email her: lindsey@startingwithjesus.com 

Have you ever made a fort? Or a tree house? Maybe you just used all the blankets in your home to build a tent fort in your living room? Our lesson this week is about a special place that God made so that he could dwell or live with His people. He wanted to be near them, to live among them, He wanted to be their God. Did you know that He wants to live in you? If you open your heart to Him, He will dwell in you and be YOUR God! Year A Quarter 3 Week 31All Bible verses are from the NKJVHymn: The Lord is in His Holy TempleYear A Quarter 3 Week 30All Bible verses are from the NKJVWrite to Ms. Katie: seedpod@startingwithjesus.comKatie's Korner: https://startingwithjesus.com/katies-korner/Find the Lessons Here:Kindergarten https://bit.ly/SeedPodKLessonsPrimary https://bit.ly/SeedPodPLessonsConnect with Us:Website: https://startingwithjesus.comStarting With Jesus - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/StartingWithJesusSeedPod - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCvU2FBPEL5-Zi2QW0STVLgInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/startingwithjesusFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/startingwithjesusAcknowledgments:Bible Readings this week: JuliaPodcast Producer: Katie ChitwoodSound Engineer: Dillon AustinMy Bible First, https://bit.ly/SeedPodLesson for use of their Bible Lesson curriculum.AudioVerse, https://www.audioverse.org/ for partnering with us and supporting our ministry.Lindsey Mills, for writing and performing our SeedPod Kids Theme Song & Background Music.To learn more about her music or to get her CD, email her: lindsey@startingwithjesus.com 

In 1 Kings 19, Pastor John reminds us that when our faith is under fire, God meets us with compassion—not shame. He is faithful to His covenant and gently calls us back to His presence and purpose. No failure cancels His calling on your life. Your God is compassionateYour God is covenant keeping Your God has a call for you Life Group Discussion:When have you felt like Elijah—exhausted, discouraged, or done—and how did God meet you in that moment?What are some “mountaintop moments” in your life where you've clearly experienced God's presence or promises?How can you be faithful to take the next step in the calling God has for your life, even if you don't feel fully ready?

In 1 Kings 19, Pastor John reminds us that when our faith is under fire, God meets us with compassion—not shame. He is faithful to His covenant and gently calls us back to His presence and purpose. No failure cancels His calling on your life. Your God is compassionateYour God is covenant keeping Your God has a call for you Life Group Discussion:When have you felt like Elijah—exhausted, discouraged, or done—and how did God meet you in that moment?What are some “mountaintop moments” in your life where you've clearly experienced God's presence or promises?How can you be faithful to take the next step in the calling God has for your life, even if you don't feel fully ready?

St. Alphonsus you have said: You are not asked to apply your mind continually to the thought of God and lay aside the fulfillment of your duties and your recreations. ... Your God is ever beside you—indeed, He is even within you. “In Him we live, and move, and have our being.” (Acts 17:28). Not only is there no need of an intermediary through whom He would want you to speak to Him, but He finds His delight in having you treat with Him personally and in all confidence. Speak to Him often of your business, your plans, your troubles, your fears—of everything that concerns you. But above all, converse with Him confidently and frankly; for God is not wont to speak to a soul that does not speak to Him.. The post Novena to St. Alphonsus Liguori – Day 5 – Discerning Hearts Podcast appeared first on Discerning Hearts Catholic Podcasts.

Have you ever made a fort? Or a tree house? Maybe you just used all the blankets in your home to build a tent fort in your living room? Our lesson this week is about a special place that God made so that he could dwell or live with His people. He wanted to be near them, to live among them, He wanted to be their God. Did you know that He wants to live in you? If you open your heart to Him, He will dwell in you and be YOUR God! Year A Quarter 3 Week 31All Bible verses are from the NKJVHymn: The Lord is in His Holy TempleYear A Quarter 3 Week 30All Bible verses are from the NKJVWrite to Ms. Katie: seedpod@startingwithjesus.comKatie's Korner: https://startingwithjesus.com/katies-korner/Find the Lessons Here:Kindergarten https://bit.ly/SeedPodKLessonsPrimary https://bit.ly/SeedPodPLessonsConnect with Us:Website: https://startingwithjesus.comStarting With Jesus - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/StartingWithJesusSeedPod - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCvU2FBPEL5-Zi2QW0STVLgInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/startingwithjesusFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/startingwithjesusAcknowledgments:Bible Readings this week: JuliaPodcast Producer: Katie ChitwoodSound Engineer: Dillon AustinMy Bible First, https://bit.ly/SeedPodLesson for use of their Bible Lesson curriculum.AudioVerse, https://www.audioverse.org/ for partnering with us and supporting our ministry.Lindsey Mills, for writing and performing our SeedPod Kids Theme Song & Background Music.To learn more about her music or to get her CD, email her: lindsey@startingwithjesus.com 

TAKEAWAYSGreg says teens need three things to be equipped to serve Christ: a King (Jesus), a cause (the gospel) and a crew (a family)Your God-sized dream can be anything - every dream matters and is importantLearn how to pray and spend time every day in God's WordGod is opening up opportunities all around us every day

Week 27 - Doctrine and Covenants 76: "JB Phillips nailed the predicament for so many Christians. “Your God is too small"Please visit us at CFMpodcast.org

Because we are welcomed by God with a word of peace, we find true relief from the worry of our lives in Jesus alone. Genesis 43:1–34 (ESV): 43 Now the famine was severe in the land. 2 And when they had eaten the grain that they had brought from Egypt, their father said to them, “Go again, buy us a little food.” 3 But Judah said to him, “The man solemnly warned us, saying, ‘You shall not see my face unless your brother is with you.' 4 If you will send our brother with us, we will go down and buy you food. 5 But if you will not send him, we will not go down, for the man said to us, ‘You shall not see my face, unless your brother is with you.' ” 6 Israel said, “Why did you treat me so badly as to tell the man that you had another brother?” 7 They replied, “The man questioned us carefully about ourselves and our kindred, saying, ‘Is your father still alive? Do you have another brother?' What we told him was in answer to these questions. Could we in any way know that he would say, ‘Bring your brother down'?” 8 And Judah said to Israel his father, “Send the boy with me, and we will arise and go, that we may live and not die, both we and you and also our little ones. 9 I will be a pledge of his safety. From my hand you shall require him. If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, then let me bear the blame forever. 10 If we had not delayed, we would now have returned twice.” 11 Then their father Israel said to them, “If it must be so, then do this: take some of the choice fruits of the land in your bags, and carry a present down to the man, a little balm and a little honey, gum, myrrh, pistachio nuts, and almonds. 12 Take double the money with you. Carry back with you the money that was returned in the mouth of your sacks. Perhaps it was an oversight. 13 Take also your brother, and arise, go again to the man. 14 May God Almighty grant you mercy before the man, and may he send back your other brother and Benjamin. And as for me, if I am bereaved of my children, I am bereaved.” 15 So the men took this present, and they took double the money with them, and Benjamin. They arose and went down to Egypt and stood before Joseph. 16 When Joseph saw Benjamin with them, he said to the steward of his house, “Bring the men into the house, and slaughter an animal and make ready, for the men are to dine with me at noon.” 17 The man did as Joseph told him and brought the men to Joseph's house. 18 And the men were afraid because they were brought to Joseph's house, and they said, “It is because of the money, which was replaced in our sacks the first time, that we are brought in, so that he may assault us and fall upon us to make us servants and seize our donkeys.” 19 So they went up to the steward of Joseph's house and spoke with him at the door of the house, 20 and said, “Oh, my lord, we came down the first time to buy food. 21 And when we came to the lodging place we opened our sacks, and there was each man's money in the mouth of his sack, our money in full weight. So we have brought it again with us, 22 and we have brought other money down with us to buy food. We do not know who put our money in our sacks.” 23 He replied, “Peace to you, do not be afraid. Your God and the God of your father has put treasure in your sacks for you. I received your money.” Then he brought Simeon out to them. 24 And when the man had brought the men into Joseph's house and given them water, and they had washed their feet, and when he had given their donkeys fodder, 25 they prepared the present for Joseph's coming at noon, for they heard that they should eat bread there. 26 When Joseph came home, they brought into the house to him the present that they had with them and bowed down to him to the ground. 27 And he inquired about their welfare and said, “Is your father well, the old man of whom you spoke? Is he still alive?” 28 They said, “Your servant our father is well; he is still alive.” And they bowed their heads and prostrated themselves. 29 And he lifted up his eyes and saw his brother Benjamin, his mother's son, and said, “Is this your youngest brother, of whom you spoke to me? God be gracious to you, my son!” 30 Then Joseph hurried out, for his compassion grew warm for his brother, and he sought a place to weep. And he entered his chamber and wept there. 31 Then he washed his face and came out. And controlling himself he said, “Serve the food.” 32 They served him by himself, and them by themselves, and the Egyptians who ate with him by themselves, because the Egyptians could not eat with the Hebrews, for that is an abomination to the Egyptians. 33 And they sat before him, the firstborn according to his birthright and the youngest according to his youth. And the men looked at one another in amazement. 34 Portions were taken to them from Joseph's table, but Benjamin's portion was five times as much as any of theirs. And they drank and were merry with him.

You were made to shine.In “Shine Your Light,” Whitney Hopler invites us to reflect on the purpose of our spiritual glow. Just as fireflies light up the night without effort, we’re called to radiate the hope, peace, and goodness of God. Jesus makes it clear in Matthew 5: your light isn’t for hiding—it’s for helping others see Him. When we live in kindness, walk in integrity, and reflect His love, people notice. And that’s the point—not to spotlight ourselves, but to glorify our Father in heaven. Key Takeaways: Your light is a gift from God—meant to shine Good deeds rooted in love and faith point people back to God Fireflies don’t strain to shine; they glow because it’s what they were created to do You were made to shine in the same way—naturally and boldly Don’t let the world’s darkness convince you to dim your light

Welcome to the VOUS Church Podcast.In today's message, Pastor Rich continues our collection, Your God is Too Small, with God Flex reminding us, God doesn't flex to impress, but to show up.Join us June 19-21 for VOUSCon, three days to encounter Jesus, get equipped, and leave empowered. Don't miss it. Head to vouscon.com to learn more.

Welcome to the VOUS Church Podcast. In today's message, Pastor Rich kicks off our new collection Your God is Too Small, challenging us to tear down the boxes we've placed around God and allow Him to reshape how we see and live. Join us June 19–21 for VOUSCon, a gathering to encounter Jesus, equip the Church, and empower the next generation. Visit vouscon.com to learn more.

This wonderful passage shows our Savior, 700 years before the incarnation, suffering and receiving honor and glory. Chad gives such pastoral encouragement in his meditation on this scripture. The amazing Markita Knight sings "Don't Let Me Go Astray". Show Notes: Support 1517 Podcast Network 1517 Podcasts 1517 on Youtube 1517 Podcast Network on Apple Podcasts 1517 Events Schedule 1517 Academy - Free Theological Education What's New from 1517: Preorder Sinner Saint by Luke Kjolhaug The Impossible Prize: A Theology of Addiction by Donavan Riley Ditching the Checklist by Mark Mattes Broken Bonds: A Novel of the Reformation, Book 1 of 2 by Amy Mantravadi More from the hosts: Chad Bird Lyrics to "Don't Let me Go Astray" Isaiah 49: 1-6   You were there in ages past And called from the womb Called to redeem the lost And rise out of the tomb You are the Light Light of the nations  Until the end, and after My Salvation My Salvation Chorus Don't let me  go astray Don't let it be for nothing  Don't let me fall away As I wait for your coming My Salvation My Salvation You were despised and rejected  Your labor was not in vain In the shadow of Your hand, you hid me You saved me and know my name Open your ears, all you people Pay attention near and far Our salvation Our salvation But You said, “I have labored in vain;
    I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity;
yet surely my right is with the Lord,
      my recompense with my God.”   And now the Lord says,
    he who formed You from the womb to be his servant,
to bring Jacob back to him;
    and that Israel might be gathered to him—
for You are honored in the eyes of the Lord,
    and Your God has become Your strength—.   Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia